The Fog
by sofakingwhat
Summary: Caught in a fog and blinded by their pride, over-pursuant Young Justice race to capture Harm, but quickly see that things are not as clear as they would like to believe.
1. Chapter 1

Before we get started, I just wanted to preface some changes I made, and by changes I of course mean a slew of retcons. This is just my humble opinion and observation, so I hope everyone enjoys, and if not, that's cool just the same. Let me know what you think about my treatment of the series as I will briefly detail my construction of the team. Here is the full roster with a small explanation as to why the two new characters made the cut and one old character did not.

Roster

Robin

Superboy

Impulse

Wondergirl

The Secret

XS: Jenni Ognatz is the first free agent pickup who fills a role I feel the team desperately needs. The beauty of a team such as the X-Men is the presence of certain communal characters who can bridge the gap between the more solitary and confrontational members. Beast and Storm are invaluable to the team because it is in their kindness and heartfelt empathy that they provide the much needed emotional anchorage of the team. In the same vein, I feel XS, who really hasn't been doing anything remotely of interest in the Legion of Superheroes, would be best served on this team. Being from the future, her character elicits wonderful irony in the sense that while a stranger in a strange land, she has perhaps the greatest grasp of what is truly important and relevant to everyone's life. It is in her gentleness and enthusiastic optimism that she can also be a maternal confidant for each member and an emotional pillar for the team.

The Spoiler: The second of the two cast additions, we had to give up 2 first round draft picks for her, but it's worth it. Barring the whole Leslie Tompkins debacle, which we will promptly retcon out of existence, Stephanie Brown offers another necessary component and source of conflict to the team. Unlike Arrowette who, though beautiful, was too nice and reserved to be flirtatious, Stephanie can introduce an element of sexual, but not salacious, tension to the group. I mean, c'mon, it's a bunch of teenage boys and girls living together, one of the characters logically has to push the sexy button and counter the advances made by Superboy. The key to Spoiler is that as opposed to the stereotypical 1950's dumb blond aesthetic, Stephanie Brown uses her beauty and sexual nature as a source of empowerment. While she, like the rest of the team, has her own latent insecurities, Stephanie externally derives confidence from her ability to use her attractiveness and seductiveness to control others.

Villains

1. Arrowette: Here is where things get controversial; I feel that Arrowette needs to be dropped from the team. In my eyes, I think the series was really bogged down by her because she never fit into a roll on the team. Originally, I thought there were great seeds sown between her and Wondergirl as she embodied everything Wondergirl wanted to be in life, but to my chagrin, that conflict was resolved in like 3 panels.

That being said, she will still play a pivotal role in the series. As is often the case, a poor hero tends to make a fascinating villain, and I think that for Arrowette, someone whose synthetic passion for being a superhero is contingent on the disembodied dreams of her mother, has great reason to slowly drift towards villainy.

When something is pushed too hard, it has no other recourse but to break.

Anyway, that's all I wanted to say, here is the first story in a longer arc. Enjoy!

Chapter I

Blink and you'll miss it, but it is ever so hard to keep your eyes open. The weight of seeing things for what they are takes a toll on even the strongest amongst us.

Within the space of a heartbeat, the grace with which the image becomes clear is surpassed only by the suddenness it becomes darkness. Regardless of what is seen, it is real. After all, it is your face his gloved fist prepares to strike.

For a time it seems as though victory is no mere fantasy, but an actuality. The tellers, the guards, and the bank customers, each in turn, failed to deter you and your accomplices. Together, the plan had unfurled perhaps better than could have ever been predicted. With sweat, fatigue, and bags of dollars, you and your allies charged out of the bank in full sprint towards the getaway car. The seething adrenaline of running transcends the minimal prospects of escape into the very real possibility of victory.

Victory of course, comes not without flirtation of defeat. Between heaving breaths and thumping heartbeats, your reddened eyes motion to your left hand, seeking confirmation that all was not in vain, and the money is still in tact. Satisfied, you blink, and there, as you sharply return your gaze forwards, you are greeted by a sight as unexpected as it is unwanted.

Appearing before you stands, or as you soon realize, hovers the Metropolis kid with four crimson covered knuckles waiting to crush your face. Though his punch targets your already scarred chin, it is abundantly clear that he is rather bored with you. The confident expression and superficial grin run far deeper than you could ever truly appreciate. He is, in every way his genetically engineered brain deems valuable, better than you, and he knows it. Smirking, he nonchalantly taunts you, "You should thank me really. This is going to be the best rest of your life."

Futile from the very start, your pulse heightens, your sweat thickens, but try as you might there is no avoiding the thunderous connection of his punch. As the fist collides with your jaw, the shattering of your jawbone denies you the dignity of being able to even girlishly scream as the intense pain overtaking you. The quaking impact of the blow sends you backwards hundreds of feet, and as you slowly fade from consciousness, you capture one final glimpse of your scurrying partners, your so called friends. Disheartened, you realize you are not the only one to fall prey to Young Justice.

Panicked by the sight, and even more so the rippling sound of their ally being decimated by Superboy, the other seven bank robbers fragmented into different directions to avoid pursuit. Without a moment's more consideration, the driver waiting in the getaway car nervously sped off, leaving behind both screeching tread marks and his accomplices. Feverishly, two other robbers, each with overflowing bags of dollars, unsheathed their semiautomatic weapons at a middle aged woman entering her parked car. In that one fleeting moment, the woman experienced more terror than the accruement of her 47 years on Earth, barely mustering the strength to relinquish control of her vehicle to the two. Lastly, the final four each headed in opposing directions, parting company with common intent of splintering their pursuers.

As did the getaway vehicle's speed increase, so too did the spirits of the driver. No cove of paper, regardless of how green, was worth the cold thrashing served to his ally. He very well may have lost the best score of his life, but it mattered not. He, unlike his pedestrian fellow robbers, felt the warming rejuvenation of freedom with every blazed mile passed.

That is of course, until he began to feel an unending, unyielding battery of winds against the doors and glass. From inside the car, he could feel a massive, almost vortex vacuuming him and the vehicle in. He was, in part, correct.

Faster than he or anyone else could ever fathom, a whirlwind developed around the vehicle. This was not by nature's hand, but rather the feet of Jenni Ognatz circling around the car at immeasurable speeds. Like her partner Superboy, she too smiled, but hers was a smile of candor and gentle innocence. Her eyes however, revealed an iron determination that emerged as her plan came to fruition.

To the vertigo and chagrin of the man inside the getaway vehicle, Jenni's intense cycling around the outside of the car created a vicious tornado that uplifted the car hundreds of feet into the air. Suspended and swirling within the upper quadrant of the torrent, the driver, sure of nothing save his life, begged for XS to cease. Obliging him, Jenni giggled to herself as she transitioned into the final stage of her attack. Slightly bending her knees, Jenni jumped into the air, gathering maximum momentum from both her speed and the whirling winds. Soaring through the air, she masterfully entered into the eye of the calamitous winds, and, employing her flying abilities, ascended to the highest apex of the tornado. Then, with her concentrated might, she blitzed back down towards the concrete surface at the bottom of the tornado at the greatest speed she could attain.

In a furious crescendo, XS stomped onto the ground, the colossal force of which seismically obliterated the already unstable tornado, causing the trapped dust, wind, and car to erupt in every direction. Fearful for his life, the driver culled all his strength to hastily pry his door open and jettison out of the spinning car into the waiting arms of XS. Though he landed in the safe hands of XS, the getaway car suffered an altogether different fate. Tumbling on every axis in mid air, the getaway car's tumultuous hundred foot ride abruptly ended as the passenger side door of the car smashed against the unforgiving concrete pavement, exploding into thousands of fractured bits of steel, aluminum, and burnt leather.

Whereas the other three on-foot robbers sought escape through running, the first of the four considered a markedly different strategy. Immediately after seeing Superboy decimate his comrade, the robber pondered, what, if any, chance of defeating a super being he possessed. Divorced from any lingering naivety, he astutely surmised that his weakness, the weakness inherent in all humans, was his strength.

Shrewdly, the man removed his pistol and took aim at the most vulnerable, and therefore useful, individual amongst the crowd. Eying a young woman bedazzled by the afternoon's events, the robber coarsely demanded, "You, you're coming with me! NOW!!" Jamming the nozzle of the firearm against her rosy cheeks, he positioned himself behind her with her quivering body a flesh shield.

Of all the fleeing robbers, his bold action thieved the ire and attention of the police present. Pressed against the door of his police cruiser, special agent Fiite vehemently pleaded with the robber, "Let the girl go! You still have a chance to walk away from all this with some hope, but if you hurt even one hair on her head, then I promise you that you will not escape! Whether by trial or my own hands, I will see you pay!!"

The slicing passion of Fiite temporarily penetrated the robber, and for the most fleeting minute, he contemplated letting the hostage go. Soon however his, or at least what he considered to be, better judgment reasserted control. Elicit in the contempt in Fiite's voice was his more deeply rooted fear. Much the same as the robber who took shelter behind the hostage, Fiite too found shelter in his explosive rage. Truly though, he was afraid, fearful that the police and the girl were at the mercy of he, the lone robber. Fear, as the robber promptly understood, is power.

Regaining his composure, the robber cockily stated, "Sorry to disappoint you, but I think me and my new girlfriend here are going for a little walk now. Anyone who even thinks of taking a step closer will have her burst brains on their conscience!! By the time you radio for snipers, I, or should I say, we will be long gone. Don't worry though officer, since I know how much you care for this little tramp, I'll send you one of her toes every day of the week!"

Upon saying that, he could feel his female hostage squirm in futile desperation. His hand roughly smothered her mouth to silence her deafening shriek, but still, the agonized torment emerged through her muffled screams. Left with no alternative, the police stood at bay and feverishly pondered how to save the hostage. Meanwhile, the robber and his petrified victim slowly backed away from the police line north into the horizon, and as the minutes passed, the police had faded out of sight.

Determined to maintain his intimidating hold over the young woman, the admittedly nervous robber snarled, "Scream all you want girly, this is just the beginning! See, you're my ticket out of this mess, and if I don't make it out of this, then I'll make sure you don't either." To prove just how serious he was, he leaned back, and with his shooting hand, he aggressively punched her in the cheek with the gun, the metallic weapon clanging against her delicate features.

Satisfied by his necessary malice, he cruelly ordered, "Now let's get moving!" Sobbing uncontrollably, the bruised woman endured an ever more stinging blow as she heard someone yell out, "LET HER GO!!" Although the young woman prayed for nothing but for someone to save her from this materialized nightmare, she knew this, this madman promised to, to kill her if the cops came even remotely close to him. Now, those idiot cops had disobeyed him and he would kill her!

The tenacious words, though stern, were unconvincing. To the robber and bourgeoning kidnapper, the voice could not possibly have been uttered by a seasoned, or even competent, officer. No, this had to be the altruistic callings of a rookie female cop out to be a hero. He never believed in heroes. In truth, he did not believe in believing. He knew bullets and understood death, something his young female charge would soon learn as well.

In response, the robber growled, "You fools never learn do you, you just cannot leave well enough alone can you! Alright then, if you do not value this kid's life, then why should I!!" This was it, the young woman began to realize. Up until this very moment, it was all like a horrifying dream. But now, it was no longer a dream. The chemical odor seeping out from inside the barrel of the gun was real, the intensity of her kidnappers bloodshot eyes were real. This was no dream. Life, and perhaps now her death, was unimaginably real.

The robber, intent on sending a clear and visceral message, took aim at her smooth ring finger. In his ever twisted mind, he planned on methodically mutilating her body every so often to keep them at bay, and to keep her alive long enough to continue his escape. Just as he shifted the pistol closer to her hand, he heard a second time, "I said, LET HER GO!!"

Unmistakably, this time the same voice had grown more authoritative. Even more disturbing, the voice sounded as if it was drawing nearer. Unable to locate its origin, the robber swiveled his head in each direction, finally turning his entire body around. In a flashing instant, as the robber turned around he was met by the rumbling current of Wondergirl flying directly at him.

Planting deep into his stomach, Wondergirl ruggedly gored the robber with her extended shoulder. The wind forcibly knocked out of him, the robber was further taken by surprise as she then wrapped her arms around his crumpling body and lifted him upwards in flight. Carrying the man in her hands, the two traveled through the sky hundreds of feet into the air. Reaching sufficient altitude, Wondergirl reduced her speed to allow gravity to slowly overtake her upward momentum. Weightlessly, she and the robber then began their descent back to the ground as the two fell through the sky at ever increasing speeds.

Midway back to the ground, Wondergirl leaned backwards while gripping him and drew his head and upper back behind her own. With him in position, Wondergirl meteorically crashed back down onto the concrete ground using the robber as a human cushion for her landing. The jagged compression of the robber's body onto the street facilitated a rather soft landing for Wondergirl. Straight away on impact, every last cranial, arm, and shoulder muscle of the man shattered into sickly pieces. Moreover, the robber shriveled unconscious from the damaging brunt of the crash, unaware of anything beyond the reverberant sounds of his own bones cracking.

Watching the entire attack from the battlefield itself, the former hostage raced over to Wondergirl. Concerned over her well being, Wondergirl asked, "Are you okay? It's over now." Almost hesitant to accept that it was finally all over, the young woman at last broke down and repeatedly thanked Wondergirl for rescuing her. "…Th-thank you so much, I, he…I was so afraid that…thank you…You were amazing."

Uncertain as how to accept the heartfelt compliment, Wondergirl stammered, "…You think so, it really wasn't anything special. I think you were the one who was really brave."

Surprised, the young woman sniffled and said, "…How, how do you mean?" "Well," Wondergirl began, the ease of conversation returning now that it was no longer about her, "how many people out there would be able to stay calm and collected while at gunpoint. Most people, most men probably would have started bawling and running around like maniacs. What you did took courage." Listening to her words, the young woman's jilted nerves began to settle and she shyly responded with a smile, "…th-thanks."

Beneath the rooftop, the second of the four pedestrian bank robbers frantically hurried east through the streets. The suddenness of Young Justice's arrival had shaken his already unstable grip on sanity. As such, the man erratically stumbled through the streets, mentally unhinged by the heightening uncertainty of each subsequent second. Gun in hand, anger in mind, he frenetically waved his weapon at any and every thing capable of moving.

Compounding matters, his innate confusion had become exacerbated by the consuming prevalence of a light brown gaseous mist surrounding him. Toying with his fragile frame of mind, this brown mist seemed to generate from apparently nowhere and just as soon had completely enveloped him. Unsure of all that was happening around him, the robber jaggedly yelled out, "I, I can't see…I…AARRGH!!"

Fury overcoming his fear, the robber violently lashed out. In a final plea to regain control, he began wildly blasting shots into the mist, hoping to destroy something that in his heart, he was well aware he could not possible hope to. Upon the splattering of bullets, the mist organically dissipated into thousands of microscopic particles, and for a brief moment, the robber stood convinced he had done that which he should not have been able to.

Though he witnessed the disintegration of the mist, his unsteady bravado blinded him to notice the subtle realignment of each and every last particle. Suddenly, the dispersed particles of the mist accrued into a thick wave behind him. Far too late to act now, the delirious robber turned around in time to watch as the mountainous torrent pummeled his body, thrusting him into the rigid brick foundation of an adjacent building. As the man lay unconscious, the surging wave remodeled itself once more, this time in the feminine physique of the Secret.

Despite her noticeable pride in her deft apprehension of this robber, she realized that she alone bore witness to it. No one took notice of her skill and style. No one took notice of her small, but disheartened sigh. No one took notice of the gaseous mist, or the female masquerade it assumes.

A slivering shadow, the third robber could feel the presence of a terrible chill about him. Unable to detect from where it emanated, he nevertheless was quite aware of its existence. Every step of his was met with the whistling hiss of the trailing wind. Alone and on foot, he discretely slipped off his black ski mask so as to appear as an innocent civilian.

Racing west around the back corner of the bank, he hoped the misdirection would provide him sanctuary. In the early minutes, he conceded his gambit had succeeded and his pursuers had lost his trail. Pleased at his cunning, the robber stole a glance at the sky, eager to bask in the glory of his escape. Consciously, he was full aware that it was early afternoon, and accordingly, the sun should be at its most radiant. However, the sight of the heavens above him belied a rather different interpretation.

The sky, like many the hearts of his accomplices, was black. No, not black, he soon gathered his faculties, but instead blocked. He could sense the heated rays parting from the sky in all directions except for directly above his head. It defied all traditional logic, but regardless, the robber stood in full view of an eclipse above him.

Terribly confused, he raised his right hand, the same hand that had callously smacked a bank teller in the face not fifteen minutes earlier, to his brow to gain a greater perspective on the eclipse above him. There, in the tumbling sky, he learned the apparent consuming shade was no eclipse, but the widening shadow of a falling angel.

Nowhere to be found was the staunch blackness of a true eclipse. Here instead, the robber stood in gripped fear as a majestic purple mystique descended upon him from atop the roof of a nearby building. Within a harrowing instant, the violet clad shadow agilely swooped down from what appeared to be a slit in very sun itself, and tightly clamped its legs in a vice around the robber's neck.

Gasping for air, desperate to just escape a breath of air let alone the situation, the robber stood motionless as he felt the intense lock squeezing his throbbing skull. For a split second, he discerned from the sinewy acrobatics of his opponent that death from above was in fact one who he might love. Unfortunately, his suffocating mind was privy to discover nothing more as he soon found his 190 lb. body contorted by his female attacker with the greatest of ease.

As if the crackling of a pistol, The Spoiler blazingly snapped her legs together while simultaneously twisting her torso around the top of the man's head. Pivoting from her hips, Spoiler stridently arched her spine from upright to below her pelvis. Inverting her position, her velvet hood was now parallel to the trembling kneecaps of the man. Commanding fierce momentum, Spoiler's movement suddenly spun the man's neck around, which cascaded his body to hunch over as it coiled to the reverse direction. Spoiler, her taught legs still anchored on the man's head, rotated 180 degrees around, thus causing the already nauseated robber to flip over horizontally and vertically.

The moment his cowering body flipped over in full oscillation, Spoiler, her face nigh inches from the chipped pavement as she continued swinging from atop the man, expertly threw out a line of rope from out her bag. Taking quick aim at the highest arch of a nearby building, Spoiler released the rope, its stringent fabric taking firm hold of the arch. In full swing, she flexed abdominal muscles, and as she pulled herself upward with the rope, she powerfully threw the robber with her quadriceps from his weary head with lashing force.

The combined force of the rope pulling her up and Spoiler physically tossing the man resulted in the robber being hurled countless feet into the sky as Spoiler nimbly ascended with the rope. In unison, Spoiler's poised feet daintily landed on the rooftop synchronically with the pained echo of the man's flung body crunching into the wall of the building. Admiring her stylistic work, Spoiler coyly insulted the prone body lying unconscious amongst a heap of dirt and trash, "I just hate guys who get between my legs and expect me to do all the work."

As the stolen car shakily accelerated through traffic, the two robbers, for but a brief moment, believed that they were the lucky ones. It was they who had held onto what was left of the tremendous score they had from the heist, and it was they who had managed to avoid having their ski masked faces caved in by Superboy. That day, only the arbitration of luck itself escaped.

Swerving across the road at flashing speeds, the two sincerely believed that they were traveling faster than any previous or future comprehension. The steaming engine roared in accordance with the stomping of the driver's foot on the pedal, and in sequence the rattling exhaust puffed putrid clouds of smog. Convinced their unprecedented 180 mile per hour speed had allowed them to evade the police, the two robbers were instantly stunned as they saw first hand a bolt of lightning streak passed the driver's side of the vehicle.

Never before or ever again had either of the two been so near a surge of lightning, and as swiftly as it lanced in front of them, it just as soon vanished. After a brief pause dedicated to the simple luxury of exhaling, both men clearly began to recall one daunting aspect of the quandary they had found themselves in.

Lightning does not, nor can it, run horizontally.

Their eyes returned to the road as they visualized the same thunderbolt charging directly at them from the center of the street. Panicked, the driver tried to rotate the steering wheel and desperately turn in another direction, but it was far too late to react.

Knifing towards the oncoming vehicle was Impulse, seemingly intent on a head on collision. Inches from the hood of the car, Impulse, dashing at speeds incomprehensible to man, began to seamlessly vibrate his entire body with intense rapidity. The robbers sat in sheer disbelief as Impulse casually annihilated whatever flimsy concept of matter they once shared as he phased through the hood of the car and windshield.

Apparently transparent, Impulse prepared to strike as his body fully immersed inside of the car's structure. Raising his knee, Impulse took aim at the bridge of the driver's nose. His knee his weapon of choice, Impulse, calculating his every move, leapt from inside the engine to assail the driver.

Partially still phased through the dashboard of the car, Impulse selectively rematerialized his knee as it emerged from the steering wheel. With injurious impact, the knee smashed directly into the quavering nose of the driver. Following contact, Impulse then phased his knee, and subsequently his entire body, through the driver's skull, continuing on in perfect stride. His head and torso passed through the roof of the car, Impulse, intent on leaving with one final memento, solidified his right foot after it phased through the driver's temple, and used it to boomingly kick the back of the driver's head.

Satisfied, Impulse phased this last part of his body through the roof of the car and somersaulted onto the street. With the driver receiving not one but two critical blows to the head, he was knocked instantly unconscious and the car, following suit, slid on its right side wheels until demolishing into an unwavering telephone pole.

Though the carjackers had been subdued, the hero of the day was nowhere to be found. Rather, milliseconds before the car even crashed into the pole, the wait had already grown excruciatingly tedious for Impulse who fled to something infinitely more fascinating. The air his flesh, his super speed his razor, Impulse ripped through the atmosphere across town towards that which truly caught his ever fickle attention, the Grand Theft Auto 4 trailer. Watching from outside the store window, Bart Allen, for each of those inexorable fifteen seconds, was completely focused, mind and body. In his lax, demure demeanor, Bart Allen commented aloud, "nice." Once the commercial concluded, all that was left was an electrified puff of smoke, and another impulsive decision.

Not far from the explosions and hostage negotiations, the last of the four on foot robbers stealthily snaked southward, utilizing the spectacle of the explosion as cover for his escape. Accompanying his every step was his fear, the ultimate fear, of the inevitable. One by one his accomplices were being picked off with the most sinister of ease, and in his pacing heart, it was merely a matter of time until he accompanied their fate. Nevertheless, he had slipped passed the gathering crowds at the explosion and nowhere in sight was any sign of threat.

Craftily, he snuck deep into the corner of an alley as his eyes fixed on his best means of escape. Courtesy of his simple minded compatriots, the police and their super powered lapdogs would be exhaustively searching for them at street level. This would be his greatest opportunity. Into the alley, he swiftly headed towards the rusted escape ladder connected to the back alley building and climbed. With brisk rapidity, he deftly scaled the ladders several stories to the roof of the building, and as his weary eyes surveyed the open rooftop, he finally, for the first time since early that same morning, exhaled, breathing the deepest sigh of relief he could remember.

Escape, in all its liberating glory, was as picturesque as the radiant horizon he headed towards. Darting across the roof of the building, the robber stood in stark confusion as a silver sparkle glinted in rotating spiral in front of him. At first, the twittering hue of the reflected sunlight was all he could distinguish. However, as the luminary sped closer towards him, he quickly deciphered it was an object hurtling at him.

Before his next move, before his next thought, the glimmering silver object that once had seemed to spin relentlessly instantly froze in midair. Furthering his astonishment, as the silver object suspended in midair for but a nanosecond, it just as speedily transformed before his eyes as long steel projections jutted out from both ends of the object, forming into a silver staff. The southern tip of the bow dug deep into the rooftop, firmly rooting into the marble pavement.

Just as quickly then, the robber's nerves near came undone as he beheld the jarring sight of a swooping black cape appearing from in front of him. Rising with the finesse and fury of a phoenix, Robin ascended into the sky from behind the edge of the rooftop in front.

Wasting neither time nor words, Robin sharply landed on the rooftop and dashed towards the silver staff deeply grounded in the rooftop. In one fluid motion, Robin's green gloves tightly clenched the steel staff, using it to gather as much power and momentum as possible. Swinging off the staff, Robin forcefully leapt towards the robber who stood paralyzed by the mesmerizing acrobatics of Robin, and viciously kicked the robber in his exposed chest, instantly cracking two of the man's ribs.

As emotional as he is flawed, Robin, he who is heir to the essence of a ninja, stood over his wounded opponent in stoic silence. Reaching outward with his hand, Robin grasped his staff from out the ground, dexterously twirled it in his hand, the speed of which bending the air around it, and finally returned it to its contracted form. His task complete, Tim Drake immediately contemplated how well the rest of his teammates were fairing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Chapter II

Akin to that of a shadow, Robin clung to the darkest avenue of descent as he soundlessly departed the rooftop. Returned once more to street level, Robin's hawk-like glare immediately soaked in the tremendous havoc perpetrated by him and his teammates and struggled to process all that had just transpired. The once tranquil strip now lay in catastrophic destruction. All around him were the macabre mementos of adolescent carelessness and irresponsibility. Throughout his long, short life, Tim Drake had been blessed and cursed to experience powerful images and instances that have defined the person he is. Perhaps more so than one human being should ever be called to do, he had risen to triumph over the loss and pain of loved ones.

This however, was something he had never seen or dare imagine possible. Alone in the heart of the street, his feet mere steps from the bank where in which this chaos stemmed, Robin's roving eyes observed in disgust the reckless destruction of property and endangerment of lives, all the while reminding himself that it was his team that not only allowed this travesty to occur, but directly caused it. Before him he saw a toppled car consumed with incendiary flames, presumable from an explosion. Further down the street to his left, another automobile was dislodged into a light pole, completely obliterating the windshield glass, windows, and hood. To his right, he watched as a tearful young woman with a crimson gash on her chin embraced her father behind a police barricade. In addition, every corner of the street and radial buildings were cluttered with critically bruised and broken bodies in need of severe medical attention.

Each vision enflamed Robin as the reality of the morning's actions settled in. First and foremost, he and his friends, no, teammates, were tasked with preserving the peace and helping others. Certainly, they had all succeeded to varying degrees of snubbing out the bank robbers, but their absolute disregard for the well being of the city, civilians, and especially their opponents sickened him.

Invoking his engrained ninja philosophy, it would be a defeat just to have been seen, let alone cause such a demonstratively vocal rampage throughout the city. Soon however, Tim remembered that despite the detriments of his teammates, he was, after all, their leader. Thus, regardless of how egregious, the performance of his team directly reflected him. It was his responsibility to ensure this needless carnage would never come to pass again, and responsibility was not to be taken lightly for Tim Drake.

As Robin contemplated the damage around him, he was soon joined by his six approaching allies, and together assembled stood Young Justice. From out the sky landed the brazen Superboy, his right hand perusing the deep pocket of his leather jacket for his signature black sunglasses. To Robin's right stepped the flirty Spoiler, ever so slightly shifting the weight of her vivacious body onto her left hip, subtly making Robin all the more regretful for patronizing his Superhero tights. Transformed from out the composition of a thick tan smog emerged the enigmatic Secret, her shaded eyes glinting ever so briefly an inviting gentleness.

Arriving beside the Secret came the warm hearted, unassuming XS, her roaming eyes eager to absorb as many sights, sounds, and experiences the world had to offer. As did Superboy before her, Wondergirl alighted next to her teammates, but with markedly less fanfare. Her clunky kneepads and uncoordinated stride made her modest entrance familiarly awkward as she, caught within a liminal space, was neither as intimidating as Superboy nor as seductive as the Spoiler. And, as the six others united, the final member effortlessly zipped alongside, his gargantuan sneakers screeching to a halt as he arrived on scene. Folding his arms, the jaded Impulse pondered what took so long for everyone else to finally show up.

As Robin stood in shock of their work, the rest of the team saturated in the butt kicking clinic they had just exhibited. Breaking the short silence, Superboy, in his self assured voice, remarked, "It's cool Rob, most people are speechless when they see a masterpiece." Slightly raising an eyebrow and placing his hand on his chin, Superboy half jokingly added, "Of course, when you're like me and you see a masterpiece in the mirror everyday, you're not quite as shy."

Minus his attached vanity, five of the six other members whole heartedly agreed with his sentiment. Through their eyes, the ravaged city and unconscious bodies were tangible testaments to their flawless execution and stylish maneuvers. XS excitedly began to speak, her focus especially locked onto the remnants of her simulated tornado, "Superboy's right…" Pausing ever so shortly, XS was full aware that those two simple words would be more than enough to inflate Superboy's already distended ego.

Just as she had anticipated, out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Kid's eyelids shut and smile widen as he basked in the unsolicited admiration. He knew he was a masterpiece, and it was about time someone else had the courage to say it, he thought to himself. Jenni did her absolute best not to crack even a smile before her next utterance, which very much nearly killed her to hold in the laughter. Finally, as Superboy seemed primed to be hauled back down to Earth, XS added quickly, "…we really did a perfect job this time! No one got hurt and no one got away!"

It was not in the Kid's expectation to hear anything short of Superboy's the smartest, wittiest, bravest, most handsome person in the world! In fact, his mind was so made up of what XS would say that even after she spoke to the contrary, he maintained his overtly proud smile, requiring several seconds to register what she had actually done. Dragged back down to reality, Superboy playfully shot a stern glance at XS as she, in return, giggled at her bothered friend.

Adding to what XS had said Secret seized the opportunity to vocally contribute. More than anything else in her mistreated heart, Secret longed to be heard. The companionship shared between her friends was something she hungered to be a part of, but a part of her, the all too often deciding part of her always hesitated to speak. The fear had become her cage, for it was the iron bars that withheld her innermost desires. Her friends and everyone else in the entire world seemed so much surer of themselves than her. They were all perfect, they were all better than her. She was just a puff of smoke, an invisible, inconsequential nobody.

Here however, she did not have to fret over being laughed at or disregarded for what she might say. Branching off what XS had already stated Secret could seamlessly insert her harmless words to the conversation. Meekly, the others heard Secret utter, "…I don't think any of those guys even threw one punch…"

A sudden discomfort overcame Wondergirl as she listened to Secret's sentiment. Though the others apparently agreed with Secret, Wondergirl knew the gnawing truth. She had been victorious, but also she had not been perfect. Once again in her life, she began to think, she was not perfect.

Those words hung beside her as ghoulish memories revisited her. She repeatedly demanded of herself, why had she waited so long to attack the robber, why did she allow him to pistol whip the hostage? Increasingly more nervous, she quickly aimed to dispel any noticeable hesitation and more deeply, lingering guilt. Wondergirl blurted out, "…Yeah, we really dished out some cold young justice!"

Up until then Impulse had remained silent, but something in her rallying cry awoke his attention. Perhaps it was the passionate fervor with which she spoke. Or, more likely, it was the noxious cliché that odorously reeked of effort. Scathingly responding to her corny comment, Impulse retorted, "Never. Say. That. Again. Ever."

The simple yet strong words of Impulse generated quite a few laughs amongst the team. Even Wondergirl, while initially hurt by his derision found the insult favorable over the team learning of her failure to protect the hostage. She too laughed, but her smile and chuckle were more tools to bury her festering guilt than any semblance of enjoyment.

As the team laughed over Impulse's sardonic comment, Stephanie Brown noticed one young superhero who, as she knew him to normally do, failed to share in the humor. Inquisitively, Spoiler leaned her arm against Robin's perplexed shoulder and said, "So what's on your mind, sexy boy?"

Without blinking, Robin's eyes turned slowly towards Spoiler. Though he loved her and once, had been in love with her, Tim Drake was in no mood to play. Nevertheless, before he had the opportunity to speak, Superboy, of all people, interrupted and responded to Spoiler, "Well, I…"

Unimpressed, Stephanie cut him off, "I wasn't talking to you Kid. If I was going to address you, I would say something along the lines of, hey arrogant, self absorbed, shallow, egotistical boy, what do you think?"

Enthralled by the heated exchange, Impulse, Wondergirl, and even Secret in the background roared in a chorus of, "OOOOOOOOOOO!!" egging on more insults. As they all knew him to be, Superboy was not one to be upstaged. Unsurprisingly, it was a trait the Spoiler and he shared.

Casually, Superboy replied, "Oh, I forgot, pinky over here has a thing for the boy wonder. Just remember Rob; you're supposed to get crabs during dinner, not the morning after."

Three of the four members of the crowd really got into it now as they raucously added a second, even larger, "OOOOOOOOOO!!" Unflustered, Spoiler quickly shot back, "You're just mad that the last action you got was with a "stranger" named left hand!"

The crowd erupted with Spoiler's remark, eliciting another mammoth, "OOOOOOOOO!!" with Impulse anxiously hopping up and down next to his cousin in rampant anticipation of Superboy's comeback. Contrary to her friends, Jenni Ognatz stood in stark confusion as to the unexpected turn of events. Mere minutes ago, she had assumed, or as she began to think, taken for granted a turgid bond of friendship between her teammates. Now however, the lauded companionship amongst two of her dearest friends was unraveling before her very eyes. Even more incomprehensible was the fact that her beloved cousin and two close friends were encouraging the implosion of the team.

Deeply confused, XS whispered to her cousin, "Why is it funny that they are saying such hurtful things to each other? Do they not like each other anymore?" Irked, in part that his cousin failed to see the beauty in 20th century culture, and also because she was obstructing his enjoyment of the battle, Impulse impatiently responded, "Duh. Are you serious? …Oh yeah, I forgot who I was talking to. They don't really mean what they're saying, they're just joking, you know."

"Oh," Jenni replied, still trying to grasp this rather nebulous concept, "…I think I understand. It is funny to pretend to hurt others!" Finding himself drifting into her realm of confusion, Impulse hesitatingly responded, "Kind of, well, not really, it's like, um, …look, just watch the two of them and enjoy, you'll pick it up over time."

With no desire to let down the electric audience, Superboy confidently leaned back, elevated his head, smiled, and began, "You know what I think…"

Piercingly interrupting Superboy, a familiar, though relatively unheard voice spoke, "I think it's time we get back to the Justice Cave." Robin, in a rare domineering tone, issued a direct order to his friends. "Aww, c'mon Rob, we were only messing around, right pinky?"

Stephanie answered, "What's wrong with you this time, wonder boy? Your red underwear on too tight again?" At her and Superboy's lackadaisical comments, Robin briskly shot a cold, condemning expression at Spoiler and the rest of the team. With that slashing stare, Robin debated if he should say what he really felt. He had their attention at last, and he knew he had to scold them for their reckless behavior. Not only that, but they were all so hideously proud of their actions, compounding his rage.

Still, a part of him hesitated. It truly pained him to rain on their fun. They were all having such a joyous time enjoying each others company, and the mere thought of berating his friends gave him the uncomfortable feeling of acting like Batman. He hated when Batman didn't trust him or questioned his methods. He admired Batman, he respected Batman, but he greatly feared becoming Batman.

Instead, Tim bottled his volcanic thoughts. Frigidly, Robin turned around and started walking. The six others, save one Bart Allen, fell in line and turned away from the city side wreckage. A certain auburn haired speedster had no intention of so willingly complying with the end of the afternoon's entertainment. Determined to reignite the fun, Impulse said just loudly for everyone to hear, "…yo' mama?"

Any other situation, any other time Superboy, Spoiler, and maybe even Robin would have given in to their brimming laughter, but alas, this was neither the time nor the place. Impulse's best efforts were met with the worst results, silence. Eventually, Wondergirl, subconsciously seizing the opportunity to vent her disappointment in herself, lashed out at her teammate, "Grow up, Impulse."

All together, yet strangely apart in many ways, the team embarked on their return to the Justice Cave.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Chapter III

The carnal thrill was the pulse on which he acted, much the same as the police radio for those tasked with protecting the city. Listening intently to the police radio frequency, he heard, "Armed robbery in progress, repeat, armed robbery in progress with a hostage at the National Bank. Reports also indicate individuals of the vigilante group Young Justice have been seen on site. All available officers mobilize on scene and provide backup immediately!"

Though anticipated, the police's course of action pleased him nonetheless. Against the hazy afternoon sun stood Harm predatorily perched atop the ceiling of the city museum. It matter not the duration or intensity of the sunlight abounding him for Harm seemed to almost exude an aura of malevolent darkness that devoured even the majesty of the sun. Not unlike the radiant star, the lifeless air surrounding Harm radiated off his hardened flesh as natural as the breaths he took.

"And so it begins…" Harm smarmily commented, the thick fabric of his cape pressing against the glass beneath his feet as he waited atop the roof of the museum. He stopped for a time, relishing in the ease with which his plan had manifested. In his sinister gaze, Harm's statuesque face turned but briefly to the sky and continued, "If I was not so very beyond emotion, I would pity them." At this, Harm found himself laughing, the lone aspect of the day to go unexpectedly, and condescendingly concluded, "Poor Robin probably had them line up in size order before they attacked."

This would be all too easy, he thought as he unsheathed the sterling blade from his right gauntlet. As it glistened ever so prominently, Harm meticulously chiseled his way through the glass ceiling, removing a sufficiently large enough chunk of glass to facilitate his descent into the museum floor.

With unequivocal agility, Harm slipped through the newly crafted entrance in the roof and landed with the unsurpassed grace of a feline. He had made no sound, and in return, the museum was rapt in silence, but nevertheless, he was full aware the silent alarm had been activated. After all, he had researched and rehearsed the plan repeatedly, demanding nothing short of perfection from himself, the police, his mindless cohorts at the bank, and especially Young Justice.

For each, Harm had assigned predetermined roles in his masterful scheme. As he stalked through the closed museum, fear found itself to be an island inside Harm, unable to beach remotely close to the shores of his consciousness. Quite the opposite, Harm mockingly stopped to observe each pitiful excuse of art and history adorning the museum. Deeming each exhibit a miserable waste of human resource, he defaced everything he passed on his way to his goal.

All the while Harm shredded paintings in two and eviscerated sculptures, he gloated, "I must admit, sometimes even I underestimate how truly ahead of my time I am." It was he who had orchestrated the high profile bank robbery mere miles from the museum. Although each and every one of his hired bank robbers had been captured, the afternoon's affairs had been a resounding success thus far.

For in truth, Harm deviously reminded himself, the goal had never been something as laughably pedestrian as stealing money. Rather, the heist had been a doomed ship from the very start. Admiring his ingenious plan, Harm recalled that the bank robbery, first and foremost was a glaring diversion to draw the attention of the police and Young Justice away from the true prize that was here, in the ever growing heart of the museum. And, just as he had anticipated, the overzealous police force and self indulgent Young Justice raced to the bank without even considering how vulnerable the rest of the city would be, to say, a break in at the museum.

To the suckling tit of the dollar, the eight mercenaries were, perhaps to a fault, loyal. He had used his hired hit-men as sheepish pawns led to the slaughter. He admitted it. He prided himself in it. Not one of the eight had the faintest inkling of knowing the true purpose of their mission. Cognizant of the fact that robbing the most heavily fortified bank in the city during broad daylight was suicide, the eight nevertheless undertook the challenge.

True, he had paid each man in advance and quite well at that. It had cost him what many would consider a fortune, but Harm knew that of true value waited for him inside the museum. The museum had temporarily closed in order to furbish a new wing that would feature a recently discovered ancient relic. This jewel, Harm salivated, was the cause for all the day's happenings.

Of Native American origin, the relic had been found off of Massapequa Bay several months ago. After exhaustive research and banal litigation, a committee of archeologists and historians decreed the relic safe to be put on display. According to many Native American legends, the relic was once heralded as a magic talisman, but upon intensive analysis, the scientific researchers proved, or so they assumed, that the mystic power of the relic was nothing more than aggrandized fables. Recalling this sad but ever true adjudication Harm's temper flared. Releasing his adamant frustration, he grasped his sword and agitatedly decapitated a stone statue next to him.

"Fools," he murmured, "only believing that which is inside their precious books." His passion rising, he continued, "There is more to this world than could ever be contained in any book. They cannot see its true power for the simple reason that it is not written down."

Contrarily, Harm knew precisely the near omnipotent power housed in the relic. Even as he ghosted through the barren halls of the museum, he could feel its immense powers beckoning him. He had known his entire life that the jewel was far more than mere fantastical fable. It was an ancient beacon to the animist gods. In ancient times, before the age of doubt, warrior chiefs used the jewel to communicate with the gods of the Earth to pray for the deliverance of rain, thunder, fire, snow, and other natural phenomena. Over time, warrior chiefs grew confident and diffident, ignoring the need to give thanks for the favors of the gods, until eventually, the jewel no longer mattered.

Now however, the jewel had been found and soon, very soon Harm thought as he viewed its glass case several feet down the corridor, he would reawaken its power. With the bloodline of warrior chiefs of the past flowing in his convalescing veins, the time had come for the relic to know a new master. Unlike those before him, Harm saw what no one else had seen for millennia. The relic grants he who reveres the majesty of the animist gods command over the forces of nature.

Despite his ambition, Harm understood that he still had to acquire the jewel first. Closing in on the jewel display, Harm discerned the presence of two security guards patrolling. A simple enough task for one such as he, Harm yawned lightly as he realized how beneath him such a mundane battle would be. Like an animal awaiting helpless prey, Harm swiftly leapt into the air and hid atop a silver chandelier. In position, he smugly spit, the saliva eliciting a noticeable ping sound as it smacked against the tile floor.

Alarmed initially, the first of the security guards mind soon reassured him that it was nothing more than the normal squeaks and leaks of any building. Still, flashlight in hand, he decided to investigate the sound's origin, if for no other reason than to stretch his legs.

As the first security guard headed down the long, barren corridor, he relaxed mind and body as he realized it was just as he predicted, a mere drop of water. Meanwhile, the sound of the spit dousing the floor went undetected by the second of the two, who blissfully continued gazing upon the relic. His listless stare into the relic suddenly snapped as he heard the call of his partner from across the hall, "Matt, get over here, quick!"

Reaching into his holster, he readied his pistol and cautiously treaded deep into the corridor. "J-Jerry," he tentatively called out, and hearing no response, he prepared for the worst. Upon inching closer, he, not unlike his speechless partner, stood in astonishment at the desecration of each exhibit throughout the museum. They had heard nothing and seen no one, but nevertheless the proof remained cemented in the destruction of each priceless painting, statue, and artifact. Fearing the worse, the two panicked security guards edgily scoured every corner of the tattered wing of the museum in a vain search for the culprit.

Meanwhile, Harm, despite his satisfaction in his efficient stealth, knew his work was not finish. Approaching the unprotected jewel case, Harm sliced into the case and grabbed his treasure. In doing so, the blaring chorus of the laser alarms sounded, but in its purpose it failed. By the time the two flustered security guards processed what had occurred, Harm and his desired treasure had long vanished. Its pulsating power awakened upon his touch, and it too, touched him. In it he could feel generations of might bathing against his fingertips.

Before he had departed, Harm offered a parting serenade, "I am not one to take without giving back, and I must admit, the display case does look a bit naked without the jewel. No matter, it is easily rectified." Determined to make things right, Harm gripped his sword, saying, "I think it is best that I leave a little something to let my peers know that their old friend Harm was in the neighborhood."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Chapter IV

The seven, each with kept concerns of their own, sought some measure of distraction to levy the ripe tension of the journey back home. As they had each, at one point or another, come to know in life, seldom what is found is what was sought.

Arriving at the Justice Cave, the team divided once more, this time spatially. Eager to lighten the plodding mood, Impulse motioned to his partner in crime Superboy, "Rainbow Six?" In mental unison with his friend, Superboy complied, "Do you even have to ask?"

Excited, the two dashed from the Cave's main entrance directly to the pseudo den where their lovechild, the Xbox 360, faithfully waited for them. Hopping over the couch, Superboy smoothly made himself comfortable by stretching his body out. Impulse, favoring speed over style, darted into the room at super-speed, and once entering before Superboy, commented, "Ha beat you in here! Not even close. At least Superman can compete with the Flash."

Unaffectedly, Superboy reminded his scatological friend, "Style over speed, Imp. The ladies prefer style over speed. Ain't that right Pinky?" From the entrance of the cave adjacent to their den area, Spoiler sweetly patronized him, "Aw, your inflatable doll finally started talking back to you. Gepetto would be so proud."

Behind Spoiler entered Robin, his brooding demeanor nothing short of an aerosol poison in the air. He had failed to string together even one sentence on the ride home, yet his silent repression spoke volumes. Though they could all hear it, Stephanie Brown was the only one to listen.

Turning towards her leader and lost lover, she said seductively, "I think I'm going to treat myself to a nice, hot, steamy bubble bath. Where are you headed boy wonder?" Uncertain of how to react, Robin replied, "…I have work to do. I need to check the Justice computer and get a status report on what's going on in the city."

Bored, Spoiler attempted to inject some life into her clearly crotchety friend, "Well, that sounds, um, fun. Anyhow, when you're done playing with your computer, come look me up." Robin did not answer. In perfect honesty, Stephanie admitted that boy was beginning to annoy her as she headed towards the bathroom.

Meanwhile, as Superboy and Impulse loaded the game, they were joined by a third. Unaware of her presence at first, The Secret, akin to a wandering specter, floated near the entrance way to the den and observed the two boys play the game. She had never told anyone, in fact, she rarely told anyone anything, but she had always been completely enthralled by the game. Maybe it was the enormous fun Superboy, Impulse, and sometimes even Robin would have playing the game. Whatever the reason, she had a hidden desire to play with them.

That very moment, as the two laughed and bonded, she mustered the courage to join the fun. Just as quickly however, the strength dissipated, much the same as the gaseous mist comprising her. A sweeping rush of apprehension enveloped her. They were having so much fun, if she butted her big nose into it, they would probably laugh at her for wanting to play. No, that wasn't true, she forced herself to remember. They are her friends, good friends, and they won't mind, will they?

Knowing this would be the only time she would remotely have the strength to ask, she approached the two as they played, and in her mouse-like voice, addressed them, "Um, excuse me, um, do you mind at all if…um…I watch you play?"

Their attention primarily on the screen, both Superboy and Impulse paused the game, turned around, and wholeheartedly invited their friend in. They, like everyone else on the team, genuinely liked Secret and wished she would come out of her shell more often and participate in the group. They all liked her. They wished she would just like herself. Warmly, Superboy said, "Sure, no prob. I prefer someone be here to witness the Kid save Las Vegas one more time, from…um…Imp, who are we fighting in this game?"

As if Superboy had asked the most borderline retarded question ever, Impulse sardonically responded, "Terrorists. Duh." Slightly annoyed, Superboy replied, "I know they're terrorists, I mean who are they under the masks. What kind of terrorists are they? Where are they from?"

Already enjoying the banter, The Secret immediately felt vindicated for going out on a limb and asking to watch. Impulse responded, now uncertain as to the correct answer, "Oh. Uuuuuummmmm…Las Vegas?" Dropping the topic, Superboy uttered, "Never mind."

As the team partitioned into various areas of the Justice Cave, Robin heading to the briefing room, Spoiler to the bathroom, Superboy, Secret, and Impulse to the den, XS decided to take this opportunity to practice one of her newfound passions, playing guitar. Life in the 21st century, while fun, was nevertheless strange and unfamiliar to young Jenni. Try as she might, she would unfortunately always stumble into things she just didn't get.

Music however, is universal. Aside from crime-fighting, sightseeing, and meeting new people, Jenni's main hobby was practicing guitar. Since before she even learned to like her own voice, she had loved to sing, and now the guitar added another dimension to her vocal art.

As she gleefully glided towards her room to pick up her guitar, she could feel that something, or more accurately, someone was not okay. A few feet from her, a haggard Wondergirl lumbered into the Justice Cave weighed down by something XS had no clue of. Sensing her friend's pain and even more so, her need to vent, XS approached Wondergirl and amiably asked, "Hey, I'm going to practice my guitar now, why don't you get you're clarinet (because conveniently Wondergirl knows how to play clarinet and its just that she, nor anyone else, has never brought it up to this point) and we can play together!"

Wondergirl liked XS, she really did. But then, it is hard not to like Jenni Ognatz. After all, it is nigh impossible to hate someone who loves. Still, there are those who do. A part of Wondergirl wanted to say yes. After all, she very much did like jamming, wait she stopped, was it still cool to say, or in this case, think jamming? Anyway, where was she, oh yes, she enjoyed playing with XS because she never made her feel like a loser for playing clarinet. It was more than that, she admitted. XS was just a fun, easy going person to hang around with.

On the other hand, a part of Wondergirl just wanted to be alone. This was the part of the young lady, the part of us all that believes we are alone. Against perhaps her better judgment, Wondergirl refuted her offer, politely lying, "Thanks, but…I have some reading I need to do. Let me know next time you practice."

Concerned for her friend, but aware that she needed her space XS did not press the issue, and instead said, "Okay, it's no problem, I understand. Have a fun time! I'll see you later!" And with that remark, XS continued on her way, cheerfully hovering to get her guitar and practice outside in the garden.

Against the monumental stature of the Justice computer, Robin was nothing more than a featureless silhouette. He was covered in a world of darkness, his body now sharing the same fate.

Over and over, Robin sat motionless as he watched one looping news item on the museum heist. Listening to the news report, he heard the same thought blare inside his head. They, and most of all he, had failed.

Disappointed, especially in himself as leader, Robin deduced that the entire afternoon's events had been a perfectly executed ruse orchestrated by Harm. Because of his nefarious plot, and as Robin added, his own inept leadership, the city incurred thousands of dollars of damage and, more importantly now, the lives of everyone in the city was at risk.

He had been trained better than that, he kept reminding himself. Batman would never have allowed this to happen. The greatest detective the world has ever known would have effortlessly solved Harm's scheme before it had even come to pass. The shame, Robin tormented himself thinking, was that he had all the tools and knowledge to figure it out. He just couldn't. Digging into the scab of one of his greatest fears, Robin questioned if he had it in him to be as great as Batman. Sure he had the pedigree, the costume, and the weapons, but when it came down to it, did he possess the natural cunning and skill to be a hero when it counted?

He leaned back in his chair. Exhaling deeply, Robin wearily rubbed his eyes through his mask, uncertain what to do next. Correction, he immediately reminded himself, he knew entirely too well what he had to do. He just did not look forward to it.

Echoing throughout every corner of the Justice Cave, Robin's hoarse voice emerged on the emergency alert system, "Everyone assemble for a meeting in the Justice Computer room, immediately!"

Robin's shrill tone served as a distraction Superboy and Impulse could have done without. Their momentary lapse in attention was sufficient to result in the deaths of their Rainbow Six counterparts. Lethargically, Secret, Superboy, and eventually Impulse headed towards the computer room. On the way, Impulse sarcastically commented to Superboy, "We really need to come up with a better name for that room." The second the words escaped his lips, Impulse regretted them, amending, "We need a cool name for it, emphasis cool, so don't tell Onderwhuirlguh."

The more Superboy interacted with Impulse, the more the Kid had learned when and when not to pay attention to Bart Allen and his many ramblings. Unfortunately, this conversation was not the latter. Halfheartedly, but nevertheless listening, Superboy replied, "Who?"

"You know…" Impulse answered. His patience dwindling, Bart gestured with his hands in circles over his eyes, presumably to pantomime glasses. Conversely, from Superboy's perspective Bart was just being Bart, which was more than confusing enough, "Imp, you got to take a dump or something? I told you to chill with those chilidogs for breakfast."

Exasperated, Impulse finally snapped, "WONDERGIRL! WONDERGIRL! Sheesh! And they think I'm the slow one!"

At that very moment, Wondergirl, also on her way to the meeting, approached the two boys and said, "What?!"

"Oh…um…" Impulse began, his mind struggling to move a thousandth as fast as his legs were accustomed to, "…Hey, you, um, look not so doggish-ly-like today."

After Impulse had finished speaking and once again triumphantly inserted his foot in his mouth, Superboy's attention shifted completely to Wondergirl as he waited to hear her response. He was gorgeous, Wondergirl couldn't help but feel as she noticed the Kid's eyes wrap around her. Something was so, so perfect about him. He was strong and confident; sure of absolutely everything he said and did. She so badly liked him, but at the same time, a part of her equally wished to be like him.

His burning gaze upon her melted what slender courage she had to say the first thing that came to her mind. She had originally intended to put Impulse in his place and say, "If I wasn't such a lady I'd slug you!" Instead, she awkwardly stammered, "…Oh, um… thank you?"

As she finished speaking, Superboy turned away, his waning interest long dissipated. Trailing behind as Superboy, Impulse, and Secret entered the meeting room to join the already present Robin and Spoiler, Wondergirl paused in the hallway and thought, "Great, another dumb, nerdy, un-cool response."

XS, while still a stranger in this time, was the only one to sense the angst in her dear friend Wondergirl. XS hoped to ease her friend's discomfort as she approached Wondergirl from behind and placed her tender hand on her shoulder. Her smile, though the simplest of gestures, nevertheless managed to soothe Wondergirl's nerves, and XS comfortingly said, "C'mon, we don't want to keep Robin and everyone waiting."

His back to the team, Robin's eyes focused intently on the monitor with a fixed image of the words, "Stay out of Harm's Way." Once everyone had arrived, they anxiously waited for their fearless leader to unveil the reason he had called them. Robin stepped back from the monitor with grave seriousness to provide the rest of the team a clear visual of the screen.

The frozen image on the screen chilled the seven young heroes. Capturing their attention, Robin then played a snippet of the news footage to further brief his teammates.

"…Tragedy struck today as a rare artifact was stolen from a recently constructed exhibit on Native American culture. In a show of bravado, a single piece of paper with the phrase, "Stay out of Harm's way," was left inside the glass display case in place of the artifact.

According to many Native American legends, the relic is alleged to grant its bearer incredible power for use during animist ritual harvest and sacrificial ceremonies. These powers are believed to include manipulation of elemental forces such as water, fire, and lightning. Despite these myths, scholars, researchers, and archaeologists maintain the relic, though tremendously valuable and sacred, does not possess any supernatural powers.

The robbery has also stirred further controversy as forensic investigators have concluded that it occurred mere minutes after the thrilling bank robbery had been thwarted by the police department in conjunction with teenage vigilantes, Young Justice. Currently, the police are investigating a possible link between the two robberies."

Robin stopped the footage.

For the team, so much more had already begun; things that cannot be so easily stopped. The crowded room grew deathly silent with the revelation of their adversary's return. Through the numbing glow of the screen, Harm's snickering memento stared back at them. Those five measly words scribbled on a piece of paper contained the power to destroy the momentous pride they each shared in foiling the bank robbery. What was once so meaningful now seemed tainted and inconsequential.

As they each adjusted to the expanding scope of the previously menial bank heist, the pressure in the room intensified. Contrary to the stymied atmosphere, Superboy, as was his ordinary predilection, stood apart from the rest. Failing to register anything other than indifference, the Kid rose from his chair and brashly stated, "So what's the big deal?"

For a second, Robin stood unable to respond. The callow irreverence uttered by Superboy was virtually unfathomable to him. After all that had happened, after all he had just heard, how, in any reasonable manner, could he be so consciously devoid of priorities.

Infuriated by his comment, Robin heatedly responded, "What's the big deal? What's the big deal? The big deal is that we blindly walked right into Harm's plan! The big deal is that he knows us better than we know him, or even ourselves! He knows us so well in fact, that he predicted our every last move, and we moronically met his every expectation like mindless marionettes! As arrogant as he is, he knows we are a million times more vain and narcissistic."

To the initial alarm of his friends, Robin spoke with an acidic vitriol he seldom ever channeled. Even he, as he spoke, realized his temper flaring uncontrollably. Though aimed at his stunned teammates, Robin's anger was rooted elsewhere. Manifesting here, his scathing aggression had been brimming beneath the surface since long before the birth of the day.

Understanding his tone was as out of line as it was unnecessary, Robin calmed himself, and exhaling deeply, he continued, "You can all see that, can't you? Can't anyone at least see that it's not enough to just stop criminals? We have to be better than that. Most of those robbers we stopped today will need years of physical therapy to recover. The city will lose thousands of dollars in repairs for damage we caused in a matter of seconds."

While ordinarily soft spoken, the words of the Robin standing before them resonated with insight and intensity. Nevertheless, Robin was not the only member of Young Justice to have his emotions erupt over the issue.

Debating, for but a moment as to whether he should or should not offer his controversial opinion, Superboy challenged, "Look, I know you're the leader and everything, but I gotta call you out on what you're saying. Rob, you're wrong."

The air grew thick as the words stagnated around them. To each member, Superboy's candid words were vocal warheads targeted at the foundation of the team itself. Perhaps the most deadly aspect of what he and Robin had said was that they both sincerely meant each and every word.

As if daring him to continue, Robin's frigid eyes locked onto those of Superboy. Undeterred, Superboy confidently pressed on, "We came in and did exactly what we were supposed to do, and that's kick butt. We ain't babysitters for the city. We don't help old ladies cross the street or tie kids' shoelaces. We do what no one else can do, and we do it better than everyone else."

Pausing briefly, Superboy laxly brushed his shoulder and concluded, "So what if Harm wants to try and mess with us. Let him. We'll shut him down without breaking a sweat."

Processing every inane statement Superboy had just made, Robin failed to uncover validity in even one word Superboy had said. Determined to enlighten him as to the seriousness of the situation, Robin sternly reinforced, "This isn't a game, Kid. These are lives we are playing with."

Caught between this war of words, Wondergirl immediately grew uncomfortable upon the mention of the lives of others. She knew Robin was right. She knew it the very moment that steel pistol clanged against the innocent hostage's face. If she had just been more careful, if, as she allowed herself to accept, she had taken the situation more serious, then it would never have happened.

She shakily reminded herself that the hostage was perfectly fine after all. In this veneer of reason, Wondergirl nestled her jilted psyche. Much to her own surprise, Wondergirl found herself entering the conversation, asserting, "But no one was hurt."

At this, XS too jumped into the conversation, vehemently reminding everyone, "But someone could have been hurt. Maybe next time someone won't be so lucky."

Stephanie Brown, who up to this point had remained unheard, insisted, "I mean that's all well and good, but this is real life. Things like this happen. We can't always pull our punches and look over our shoulders every second because we're afraid we won't do things perfectly according to the Superhero guidebook!"

Within an instant, the team that moments ago sat in wed silence was now ablaze with quarrelsome debate. Soon the entire team, save two members, venomously shouted at each other as they unsuccessfully tried to argue their point of view. Whereas Secret feared to speak, Impulse had nothing to say. Nevertheless, they were both, in their own ways, just as affected.

Interrupting their clash of ideals, the Justice computer blared with a police wire update that roared above the raucous wash of male and female shouts. The crisp sound served to sober the separating seven long enough for their attention to turn to the monitor. Before their eyes, everything, for the time being at least, became clear once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V

Chapter V

Beyond the outstretched hand of science dwelt Harm, one with nature. Deep within the emerald forest outside the city, Harm reveled in the colossal power emanating from around his neck. To many, it would be a carnal pleasure to be imbued with such infinite command over nature itself. However to Harm, a faithful child of the Earth, it was an honor, a sanctimonious blessing to bear the birthright of the very planet itself.

Reflective of his reverence for the ancient relic, Harm had forged a proper necklace to house the precious jewel. Close to his heart as it was to his chest, the jewel rechristened Harm into that which he had always believed himself to be. In many respects, Harm was now as much a force of nature as the elements he commanded.

Still, as Harm humbled himself, he, like the rest of this dying world, needed more time. With an eternity of power in submission to his beck and call, Harm lurched at the outskirts of infinity. The power longed for his touch, it waited for a new divinity to emerge and unleash its dormant powers. While he had laid claim to the jewel and all it entailed, he required time to expertly master how to wield it.

The secluded sanctuary of the forest availed Harm the perfect opportunity to practice his acquired skills. In stone meditation, Harm, not unlike the towering trees enclosing him, became one with the Earth. His mind escaping the shackles of his physical form, Harm felt as if he transcended this plane of existence and arrived within the apex of the jewel.

As if diving into an unending ocean of energy, Harm could feel the jewel nourishing his embryonic knowledge. Instantly, Harm awakened, returned to the corporeal world but with a gift of his brief, but illuminating journey to his rightful place as a deity between realms.

Rising to his feet, he, with eyes similar to that of a trance, channeled the limitless energy of the jewel. Extending his arms, a blanketing fog emerged all around him, hazily distorting the previously clear visage of the forest. Pleased at but his first venture to great power, Harm quickly grew more ambitious.

For what would be the next sixty minutes, Harm diligently practiced casting various elemental spells. Conjuring the tempestuous rage of the clouds, Harm discharged a ferocious bolt of lighting that obliterated a nearby tree into charred sunders. Likewise, he then called forth the cold vengeance of a bitter hailstorm to reduce a flourishing grove into a lifeless glacier. While amazed by his stellar dominion over the jewel, Harm realized it would be prudent of him to avoid too great a display of strength so as to shirk any detection. Confident, not foolish, Harm thought, "Careful Harm, the world will soon know to fear me, but not if I am spotted before I have perfect control over the jewel." He knew full well that his casting skills would need sufficient honing that would not be possible if he continued to create such an ostentatious ruckus.

Heeding his own warning, he then transitioned to learning how to manipulate fire. Much the same as that which fuels his every desire, an insatiable fire burned within Harm's devilish palms. In his wicked grin, he found sadistic pleasure in the mere thought of all he could do with his newfound abilities. The intense flames danced in his palms, and as his faith in his control peaked, he endeavored to further enliven the flames.

To his immediate regret, he unintentionally summoned too much raw energy, resulting in the generation of a massive inferno burning in a 100ft. vertical column of flames. From the heart of the woodlands to the tranquil sky, the blaze of fire incinerated each cloud in its path. Harm's budding assurance in his abilities shattered as he pensively realized that his enormous mistake would surely garner the attention of the police and the brats in Young Justice. He was so close, he wracked his mind thinking, he was so close to perfecting the art of the relic, but instead, he must now contend with the entire city just to secure his own escape.

"No matter," he asserted as he regained composure, "perhaps this is exactly what I needed. After all, what better way to hone my skills than to test them in battle?" Just as quickly as he had loathed his carelessness, he now anticipated, nay, salivated the coming of Young Justice. There was no means of direct escape for Harm as he knew the police would soon encircle the perimeter of the forest. His best and only means of survival depended entirely on how well he knew his young friends.

Assembling his strategy for escape, suddenly, the ease with which it all seemed to come together sparked a cackling laugh from the silver tongued jackal. As he laughed, he drew his sword beside him, and into his reflection, he spoke, "Hehehe, come to me my friends, you have already given me so much today already." Like a thirsting hyena, his sharp jaw protruded, and in his predatory gaze, he added, "It is time I give you something as well…"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI

Chapter VI

It was late. The day that had shone with such promise was now night. An uncertainty befell the sky as if offspring of the stars. Upon receiving news of the gargantuan explosion outside the city, Young Justice dropped their argument for the time being and raced to the woodland area. The startling description of a towering inferno kindling from within the outland forest immediately spurred the team to decipher the true cause of the disturbance, Harm.

Boarding their loyal Supercycle, the team traveled at shredding velocity as they soared through the clouded evening sky. Difficult to see, Robin struggled to navigate the cycle to the target location. While present, it was not the clouds of the sky that blocked his vision, but rather clouds of a different nature inhibited his vision as well as that of his branching team. The duration of the trip did nothing to suture the wounds of their verbal joust. Instead, the festering sores of bruised egos and unheard voices swelled. Unlike the superficial scars they had grown accustomed to and understood, these scars, while equally agonizing, were carved deep within.

While the miles ventured by the cycle were few, the journey itself was long and unbearable for each of its young passengers. Absent was the signature lightheartedness they normally entered battle with. Smiles and laughter had long given way to unease. Their unbreakable bond had been shaken by their conflicting points of view, and as they sat, they watched as its atomized remnants drifted into the wind much the same as the faint exhaust of the cycle as it hovered above the forest.

Overhead from ground level, the team observed the entire perimeter of the forest surrounded by police line. However, as they attempted to peer into the forest itself, they found it a bizarre impossibility. Emitting from deep inside the forest, an opaque fog sheltered every tree and blade of grass. The fog, drafted by Harm as his first line of defense, draped the whole forest in a cryptic grey vacuum of shapes and colors.

From her seat in the Supercycle, XS, mesmerized by the fog, a phenomena she rarely experienced in her life, uttered, "…I can't see anything." In line with her comment, Wondergirl, taking notice of the police line, added, "Neither can the police. Look, they can't move into the forest because the fog is so thick. I guess they can't risk going blindly in until they can cut through the fog."

For a time, the unthreatening conversation piece provided a much needed outlet for the team to slowly pull together again. As did her lavender cape sway ever so gently in the breeze, Spoiler delicately asked aloud, "…What could possibly be causing this fog?" Then, to further lighten everyone's already improving mood, she jokingly added, "It's not like I wouldn't have noticed us moving to London or something."

Both Impulse and Wondergirl giggled at Stephanie's whimsical comment. Also finding it funny, Robin responded in the way he felt it appropriate. "It's Harm," he stated, his voice noticeably straining to sound assertive, "he's down there, waiting for us."

Clashing with Robin's stern approach, Superboy, very laid back, insinuated, "Well then let's go down there and greet him!" As he spoke, Superboy floated out of his seat in the Supercycle and prepared to swoop down into the forest. Convinced, Impulse remarked, "'Bout time," as he shifted his weight in his seat to prepare to jump out.

Stopping him and Superboy, Robin yelled, "Wait! We can't just blindly rush in there, that's what he wants us to do!" Things had just started to take a turn for the better, Secret thought as she silently clung to the back of the cycle. Now Robin and Superboy were starting up all over again, if only there was something she could do, something she could say to get them to just calm down. Alas, as she knew all too well, neither of those acts would ever occur so long as she was what she is.

Nevertheless, to her tremendous surprise, as Robin spoke, the other members, Superboy included, yielded to his decision. Robin himself was a bit relieved to see that everyone sat in locked attention to his plan, which he calmly explained, "Wondergirl's right, the police can't get in, but Harm also knows that he can't get out. He's waiting for someone to make a mistake, he's waiting for someone to play right into his hands and give him an avenue of escape. He's lured us out here because he wants a showdown with all of us on his home turf. Our best chance to get him is to turn the tables on him for once and get him to play into our hands!"

Undeniably intrigued by his leader's blossoming scheme, Impulse slyly asked, "So what do you have in mind?" It was not in Robin's nature to reveal his inner feelings, but was he to be so inclined he would be quite satisfied to know that something he had said was able to engage the ever fickle attention span of Impulse. In response, Robin elaborated, "I think…" and abruptly paused.

Mentally, he reminded himself of his position as leader and resumed, "We will break up into three teams. The first team, Wondergirl, Secret, and I will enter the forest from the outer rim. We will search for Harm, and once we find him, we will lure him towards the heart of the forest. Secret," Robin began, turning his head to address her, "do you think you will be able to use your powers to lift some of the fog once we get to ground level?"

Secret was rather surprised and taken off guard that Robin would directly speak to her of all people. In a million different fantasies, she had dreamed about Robin noticing her and talking to her. Of those million, not one included her being seen by Robin as a tool to be used. She answered uncomfortably, "…I think so, um, yeah, definitely I can."

Resuming his train of thought, Robin went on, "Great. Then, team two, Superboy and Spoiler, will be waiting overhead, and once Harm appears, you two will attack him by surprise. Meanwhile, team three, XS and Impulse, will be circling around the perimeter at super-speed to try and redirect the current of the fog towards the back trail of the forest apex. If Harm tries to retreat after team two pummels him, then he will be completely cornered as team one will seal off one path and team three will use the fog to block the reverse direction."

Once he had finished speaking, everyone sat in excited approval of his devious plan. XS eagerly spoke, "I like it! Really cool plan Robin!" Equally committed, Wondergirl sarcastically commented, "It sure feels nice to be the ones setting traps instead of falling into them."

Conscientious of the fact that this was not the time to rattle the frail healing period of the group, Superboy appeased the rest of his friends, "Sounds good just so long as I get a piece of ol' Harmless. This whole falling into traps thing is seriously damaging my rep. It would be the crime of the century for this face to be seen as the Plastic Man of Young Justice."

To everyone's equal surprise and relief, Robin dryly lamented, "I think one Plastic Man is all the world can handle." Although everyone else laughed, Impulse contemplated what in the world was wrong with Plastic Man. In his mind, Plastic Man had the most awesome power of anyone, especially anyone on this team. He could stretch himself into any shape, any length, anytime he wanted, what could be cooler than that? And, if that were not enough, the dude has the most pimped out sunglasses he had ever seen!

Almost appalled at Superboy and Robin's jest, Impulse questioned, "What's wrong with Plastic Man? Why should Superboy get to be Plastic Man, if anyone should be Plastic Man, it's me…" and recalling his own goggles, he declared, "I am the Plastic Man of Young Justice!"

This was too good to be true for Wondergirl, and as everyone else uncontrollably laughed at Impulse's unintentional hilarity, she attached, "I don't think anyone will argue with that, Impulse."

Still confused as to why everyone was laughing, he, simply thinking they did not believe him, pleaded, "Hey, I really am! If only I could get my hair to be as cool as his…"

Impulse's latest self inflicted insult sent everyone over the edge as they all howled in laughter. Even Jenni Ognatz, who felt bad for laughing at her well meaning cousin, could not help but explode with cackling laughter. Perhaps it was not so much Impulse that triggered the response. As Robin began to notice as he himself chuckled, the shared laughter among friends was rather curative.

Despite the joyous fun they were having, in the back of each of their minds was the gnawing fact that much of their earlier internal conflict had remained unresolved. No one, for fear of disrupting the harmony, brought up the argument that had so easily divided them an hour ago. They knew that should they fail to solve the issue, it would, in one form or another, return eventually.

Akin to the hidden, but nonetheless present plants and animals below, the inevitable future was invisible.

Gliding the cycle into proper position, Robin edged close to his intended spot near the outer rim of the forest canopy. There, Robin, Wondergirl, and Secret prepared to descend, with XS and Impulse getting ready as well. "Okay, this is it everyone," Robin called out as the five exited the Supercycle.

From her seat in the cycle, Spoiler concernedly replied, "Be careful…" She had meant it for each of her friends, but in truth, a part of her thought only of Robin. To her chagrin, the sole response came from her most loathed of sources, Superboy. In his obnoxious tone, he commented, "Give them some credit, Pinky. If you should be worried about anyone, be worried about Harmless." Like his words, the five superheroes drifted into the staunch clouds of the fog below, and suddenly, as they slipped inside the atmospheric marsh, many things became unclear.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter VII

Chapter VII

"And I thought things were bad the way they were before," spoke Wondergirl the moment her sneakers contacted the ground. Her legs, not unlike the bodies of those around her, had become engulfed in shroud as the five landed on the ground.

They were all together. They were all very much apart. All at once, the unsettling reality of the situation sunk into their young hearts as they wandered amidst the stagnant fog.

The usually lively voice of XS quivered with diffidence, "…I-Is everyone still there? This is pretty scary," as she despairingly reached out with both arms extended, only to feel no one and nothing. The mere fact that Jenni Ognatz, the emotional pillar of the team, was in so much disarray was cause for great concern in the team and the task at hand.

Equally nervous as his cousin, but a fraction as honest, a jittering Impulse insisted, "Scary, nah, this is… it's…Robin, what is this?" The confusion had reduced his closest friends to distant shadows, and all around him, the shadows danced in frantic chaos, forcing Robin to constantly remind himself the true identity of each silhouette. "Stay calm," he mentally repeated, but despite his mind's most diligent efforts, he could not deny the progression of fear as it slithered in his heart.

With the vagrant cries of mystification from his friends, Robin knew that no matter what, he could not allow Harm to do this to them. Shrewdly, Robin took command once more and stated, "Look, yes, we've lost one sense, that's a given, but that's just the thing. We don't need to see clear to see clearly." Oblivious to its meaning, Impulse had no desire to ponder its message and instead muttered, "what'sthatnowwho?"

"Secret," Robin resumed, "you take point and use your mist powers to lift the fog in front of us. Wondergirl, you fly above us in case one of us is blindsided." Upon his request, Secret ghosted to the front of the pack and, lengthening her left arm, lifted the dense fog around them in a five foot radius. Within an instant, the cloaking veil imposed upon the forest had, at least in part, been dispersed. Before each of them appeared the relieving sight of four familiar faces. Conversely, Secret bashfully began, "Sorry…" and feeling she had let down the team, Robin especially, she finished, "that's the best I can do."

Robin quickly pointed out, "No need to apologize, you did great. This is all we need to make our way through the forest." Encouragingly, XS also added, "Yeah, you did a really great job, Secret! This place is so much more beautiful now that I can actually see it."

As opposed to everyone else, Impulse had a quite unique point of view on the fresh visage before his eyes. "Meh, it looked cooler before. Now it's just a bunch of dumb trees." Wondergirl, who like XS lavished the gentle finesse of nature, acerbically commented, "Alright there, Plastic Man, don't get too worked up."

Intent on maintaining focus, Robin continued, "XS, Impulse, we need you to phase along the perimeter in opposite directions to try and redirect the current of the fog towards the back exit of the forest." The temerity in Robin's voice proved reassuring to XS. Her initial panic conquered, she affirmed, "Got it!"

"Alright, everyone, let's get moving. Harm is in here, somewhere, so be careful and remember the plan." On the heels of Robin's words, the two young speedsters vanished into the night, leaving behind smoke of two bodies traveling at speeds surpassing sound.

Moving forward, Secret tentatively led the way, maintaining a constant five foot radius of clarity as they trudged deeper into the core of the forest. It was if the animals bowed to the oncoming battle to be waged as they all hid in silent observation. The trees too seemed to stop rustling as the trio walked. A dark chill passed over them as they carefully stepped forward. However a grave misunderstanding had occurred as the arctic gust sweeping beside them was no earthbound gale, but the cues of a predator stalking its prey.

Since the very moment they had descended into his trap, Harm had known precisely where his guests were. Not only was his jewel granter of indelible power, but it also allowed Harm to sense the energy signatures of those around him. Using this great knowledge as a great power, he, as silent as the Secret herself, positioned himself inside an upcoming tree.

The pulsating thrill of the chase exhilarated Harm as he waited. He the hunter, they the sheep led to the slaughter. The time had come to end this magnificent exercise and take the respect he so rightfully deserved. It would be in blood they would know his name.

Unaware of Harm's presence, Wondergirl toured through the sky above Secret and Robin providing a bird's eye-view of the forest. Preceded by an ever so delicate bustling of leaves, Harm viciously leaped out of his hiding place inside a tree and pounced onto Wondergirl as she flew by. Terror instantly gripped her as her heart exhaustively pumped in response to the weight of Harm on top of her.

Landing on her back as she flew through the air, Wondergirl, intent on shaking him off, began to barrel roll in the air. Despite the turbulent velocity of each spin, Harm maintained his position. A demented smile then formed across his face as Harm raised his blade to the sky. In aesthetic harmony, the edge of his blade and vampire grin glinted insidiously in the washing moonlight. Though on the ground, Robin and Secret immediately heard the impact of Harm's body pressing against Wondergirl's, and to their adamant horror, watched helplessly as he maliciously stabbed his sword into her back.

Crying out in pain, Wondergirl lashed about in midair as a crimson fountain of blood rained onto her two mortified friends below. Fortunate for Wondergirl, the brisk spins of her barrel rolls prevented Harm from digging the blade as deeply into her as he would have liked; that being completely through her. Nevertheless, Wondergirl spiraled down towards the ground, slipping unconscious due to the agonizing blow.

As she plummeted towards her friends, Harm unsheathed his blade from where it lay inside Wondergirl, and bounced off her limp body into the air. Rotating in the sky, Harm lithely landed in front of Robin and Secret seconds before Wondergirl's body brusquely crashed into the thick bark of a nearby tree. Deeply concerned over her friend's safety, Secret rushed over to the rubble created by the crash to find Wondergirl.

Face to face, the enmity between Harm and Robin intensified to unequivocal levels. With jackal eyes, Harm snickered, "Ah Robin, had I known we were to do battle I would have brought the baby stool." Robin had no desire to respond, he had no want of anything save to shut Harm up now and forever. As his blood boiled, Robin took notice of the stolen jewel adorning his opponent's chest. Just as quickly, Robin's eyes turned away, unable to stare at the embodiment of his ineptness to stop Harm.

Drawing on Robin's palpable sense of doubt, Harm cockily struck with words, "I see you've noticed my latest acquisition, but of course, I have you and your friends to thank for it. After all," his perverse smile growing, "none of this could have been possible without your amazing leadership. Take a bow for the brief few moments you still stand, boy."

Robin knew better than to attack Harm one on one. He was too dangerous. He had made that misstep in judgment once before. He had a plan now, a plan that hinged on him of all people following through in it. Even with that, there was something in Robin that would not so easily be swayed. That face, that snaking grin infuriated Robin as it tapped into a deeply rooted vein that gashed pride and spurted hate.

Blind now to the merit of the plan, Robin enlarged his bow staff and prepared to strike. Harm eyed his opponent, thoroughly entertained by Robin succumbing to his will, and easily avoided his lumbering stab with his staff. He could feel the pressure suffocate Robin and degenerate his customarily graceful technique into uncoordinated fury.

As he dodged Robin's horizontal swipe Harm swiftly retaliated with a sweep of Robin's leg, instantly toppling him. Feverishly Robin nipped up to his feet, but as he did so, Harm mocked, "Aw, what is the matter boy wonder? You have been such a great help to me all day, yet now you fail me as a sparring partner? It would be a miscarriage of truth to say that I am even barely trying. Hahaha!!"

That laughter was intolerable, and determined to snuff it out Robin lunged towards Harm, yelling, "Enough!!" Surprising his confident adversary, Robin connected with a crushing roundhouse kick to the unsuspecting temple of Harm. However, before Robin returned to the ground Harm hastily countered with a sharp knee that slammed bluntly against Robin's abdomen. The wind mercilessly knocked out of him, Robin dazedly raised his head to face Harm, but all he could see was his approaching fist bashing his nose.

The cold impact of the punch sent Robin stumbling back two steps, but in this small window of opportunity, he calculatingly returned fire. In motion with the impact of the blow, Robin swung his bow staff at Harm. With but a second to react, the air parting bow staff clanged against Harm's sword as he blocked the incoming strike. Resilient as ever, Robin then whirled the bow staff back around and jabbed it into Harm's puffed out chest. The collision of steel against bone stunned Harm, who huddled in equal astonishment and agony. Hoping to seize the moment, Robin performed a sudden second attack, this time turning the staff vertically and brutally thrusting it up into Harm's protruding chin.

For the first time in the battle, Robin felt as though he had hurt Harm. An ached grunt escaped Harm's lips as the steel staff crunched his jawbone, the force of the shot uplifting Harm's head and nearly tearing it from his neck. Like Robin before him, Harm tactically decided to ride the momentum of the blow and back-flipped after receiving the hit. As he did so, he cleverly used his rotating left foot to fiercely strike Robin in the face. Reeling from the unexpected flip kick, Robin stumbled backwards. Intent on sending a clear message to his foe, Harm dashed towards Robin. With the sheer aggression of a locomotive, Harm landed a second kick to Robin's damaged face that immediately dropped Robin to the floor.

Ever so slowly he began to close in on Robin as he lied in the grass. Clenching his sword tightly, he pressed the tip towards his fallen prey. Maniacally, he told Robin, "I have enjoyed toying with your fragile sense of morality all day, but I have to admit, nothing is as satisfying as physically beating my superiority into your obstinate skull. Nothing in this world can quite compare to the thrill of cradling another's life in your arms, only to squash it between your fingertips. DIE!!" With the raise of his voice, he thrust the piercing tip of his blade directly at Robin, who lay gasping for air.

From across the misted forest and with the rage of the heavens came a heaving gust of mahogany wind that boomingly blasted Harm back seconds before the edge of his blade slit the throat of Robin. Caught off guard, the shockwave of the blast tore Harm from the very earth he stood on and sent him flying several feet backwards, culminating in his stone like back splattering against the front of a tree.

It was in her eyes that the Secret was disrobed. Cloud and shroud had become a part of her, and over time, it had, in truth, become her. Heart and emotion enslaved to the distancing mystique of her power, she, with every reason to forsake her fragile humanity, could not ignore the ravenous beating inside her, reminding her of something she, not unlike so many, had possibly forgotten.

She was human.

Beneath the darkness and against the moonlight, the Secret was a girl. She was a simple, innocent, gentle human being who saw the man she dare not admit she love in need, and she acted. She had successfully defended her lover, friend, she corrected, and while Robin or anyone else might never know, she had also succeeded on a second, much deeper level.

As Robin struggled to his feet, he like the blown away Harm was greatly surprised by Secret's awe inspiring demonstration of power. Unlike Harm however, Robin was further relieved by the graceful sight before him. This was neither the place nor the time, but Robin could not help but admit that there was something undeniably beautiful about the girl he and everyone else knew so little about. In her gentleness, she wisped over beside him and helped him to his feet.

Afar, the welting bruises on Robin's youthful face were cast away by the shadows of the night. Here, huddled beside him, Secret's voice failed her as she held him in aghast to the brutal beating he had endured. Finally, she tenderly managed to say, "…Are, are you okay, Robin?"

He liked her voice.

In but a brief moment, Tim Drake felt as if though it was the warm breeze who had soothingly touched him. It was calm, serene, and sincere, and it was then he realized, much to his unsuspecting delight, that it was not the fickle wind that cared for him. No, it was another, it was something much better. Raising his head as he tottered to his feet, Robin's ivory eyes, for a forever second, met those of the woman who tended to him.

In reply to her concern, Robin reclaimed his balance and said, "Thanks, Secret," and, rushing back to his consciousness, his mind turned to their injured ally, "How, how is Wondergirl?"

Though the Secret had grown all too accustomed to it, never had she grown impervious to being disappointed. It seemed so perfect, at least it seemed to start so perfectly, Secret heartbrokenly thought as she heard Robin's warranted, but nevertheless crushing sentiment for Wondergirl. "Oh," she answered, disheartened, "…She's in a lot of pain, but fortunately she didn't get any critical damage. She said she'll be fine in a few minutes, she just needed to rest and recover."

"That's a relief," Robin concluded. As he continued, he slightly fumbled over his words, "I…you really saved me…That was some blast you gave him, I'm impressed."

"I am not." The chilling cry of Harm as he rose to his feet and flipped back to the battlefield instantaneously dissipated the fledgling moment between the Secret and the Robin. The blindside attack perpetrated by Secret served as a cold reminder for Harm that his underestimation, not of the latent talent of Young Justice, but rather the simple reality of their numerical advantage would be his undoing. He could not afford to fall victim to his bloodlust, no matter how he thirsted for avian arteries.

Harm readied himself to resume combat as he hunched his slung body over and clasped his already dripping sword. Sharp as it was, the sword rigidly tore into the grassy knolls as he briskly began to bolt towards the two. Secret watched as Harm drew inexorably closer to her and Robin, but on the heels of her previous success, she again launched a rippling tsunami of gaseous mist at her opponent.

Banking on her overconfidence, Harm basked in the laughable predictability of his nemeses. Without breaking stride, Harm anticipated her every move, and timing his jump perfectly, he somersaulted in mid air, over her blast, and landed behind Secret. Before she had realized his cunning intention, Harm then dismissively extended his left arm, and to the frightful discord of Robin, and for a breath Secret, a crippling surge of lightning beamed from out his hand and exploded against Secret's back, causing her to immediately shriek out, "AAAAGGHHH!!"

Upon the blast's sizzling impact, Secret screamed louder than Robin had ever heard in the ever expanding time he had known her. This unprecedented outcry from his typically subdued partner painfully accentuated the unreal anguish thrashing through her body.

Where once she stood, the force of the lightning bolt instantly knocked Secret unconscious as her limp body crumbled to the ground. Furious, Robin retaliated, "HARM!!" as he slammed his metallic staff against Harm's blocking sword, intending instead for his bow staff to slam against Harm's skull.

Harm seized this moment to strike, for he knew sooner or later the rest of Robin's incompetent, but many cronies would arrive to outnumber him. While he possessed the potential to smite every last one of them and the police, Harm calmly reminded himself that he still needed time to cultivate his power fully.

Parrying his emotionally unraveling adversary, Harm reversed with a sudden spin to Robin's side, and finding Robin momentarily vulnerable, Harm cudgeled the back of Robin's neck with the hilt of his sword. The grit of the impact was sufficient to drop Robin as he achingly plummeted to the floor.

Although Harm indubitably desired to taunt his defeated combatants, he had to keep moving lest he fall into whatever juvenile trap they set for him. Still, as he slipped through his synthesized fog deeper into the heart of the forest, he muttered to their unconscious flesh, "It'll be a sad, sad day when the Bat passes the torch, or ceremonial feather, or whatever they do when nobody's around to this wretch."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII

"There he is, right on schedule," were the words of Stephanie Brown to Superboy, as they, the floating observers they were, watched Harm navigate into the center of the forest. The fog had already begun to lift, a testament to the success of XS and Impulse as they blazingly altered the current of the fog. The overhead fog had parted as the thick clouds swam towards the rear clearing of the forest.

In perfect sight, Spoiler and Superboy prepared to swoop down on their target, but something, or more accurately, the absence of something impeded their motion. No where to be found were their friends whom they assumed would be trailing behind, but no matter, they mutually conceded. XS, Impulse, Robin, Secret, and Wondergirl had all managed to do exactly what they intended to do, and know was the hour Superboy and Spoiler do the same.

With the charm only one such as Superboy can afford, he gibed, "Think you can handle this one without breaking a nail?"

"Can you," Spoiler quickly rebutted, her words rich with venom. "Hardee Har Har. Guffaw." Superboy sarcastically replied as she exited the Supercycle into Superboy's arms. Raising her above his head and gathering as much strength as his tactile telekinesis would entitle, he lanced her at Harm below.

Slicing through the remnants of the fog at roaring speed, Spoiler's foot aimed squarely at the neck of Harm. Barely detecting her in time, thanks in great detail to his emanate jewel around his neck, Harm expertly rolled out of the way, just missing Spoiler's attack.

Though evading Spoiler, Harm was greeted by the pounding fist of Superboy who swooped in and punched him across his face the minute he completed his roll. Leering in pain, Harm started to feel the tide of the bout turning in their favor. While outnumbered, he was not helpless or without means of attack.

In his cunning guile, Harm, as he rose to his feet and checked his jaw, sneered, "Ah, Superboy, I was wondering when the great clone of clones would catch up to me. So far my plan has been almost as easy as your hooded friend here."

To no surprise of Harm, his words enraged Superboy, who barked, "Hey! Leave her alone!"

It was here, in this frail and passing instance that Spoiler, Stephanie Brown saw something she wondered, but secretly hope existed in Superboy, and for that matter every soul on Earth. The passionate determination in even someone as immature and conceited as Superboy gave her the tiniest, but most sincere ray of hope in the world. He had reminded her, through word and action, why she was where she was.

"Thanks Kid, but I can handle myself!" and riding her sentiment, she lunged towards Harm with a quick kick that thumped across his numbed chest. Wounded by her subterfuge strike, Harm wobbled two steps back, and noticing the damage done, Superboy decided to capitalize.

Pressing his red gloved hands to the soil, Superboy widened his tactile telekinetic wave across the ground below Harm. With a cocky smirk, Superboy nonchalantly produced a seismic earthquake around Harm. The once tranquil Earth fractured into rubble and plates that tumultuously jutted up into the sky in, carrying with them a confused and suffering Harm.

Despite the severity of the move, Harm, in his painful determination, managed to grab hold of one sedimentary plate of Earth as he and the rubble around him were tossed into the air. Harm realized he would have only one opportunity to do this right as he desperately held onto the plate of Earth and calculated his next step.

As he clung to the side of the boulder, Harm struggled, but finally succeeded in propping both legs against the rock. A chunk of the enormous rock broke apart as Harm kicked the boulder to gather enough momentum to back flip off of it. Somersaulting in the air above the boulder, Harm hastily took aim at Spoiler and, before either she or Superboy could see, blasted her with a scintillating lightning bolt.

The strike, equally accurate and throbbing, burned into her shoulder, causing her to scream wildly, "AAGGHH!!" Superboy, ignoring Harm, rushed over to Spoiler, sharply yelling, "NO!" This lapse in Superboy's concentration succeeded in providing Harm the opportunity for escape he so sought. Cutting off Superboy's path to Spoiler, Harm executed a swift sucker punch deep into Superboy's unsuspecting stomach, forcibly draining every last breath of air from out his lungs.

Lissome stepped and silver-tongued, Harm toyed with Superboy as he writhed in pain, "On your knees over a girl? If I didn't know better, I would have thought you Robin." Satisfied by his work, Harm maneuvered deeper into the forest, intent on slipping out through the back. All the while, he could hear the jumbled sounds of the police entering the forest front entrance through the waning fog.

Hurt, as much by the blow as the spoken word, Superboy assured himself Harm could not have meant Robin and, and Wondergirl? Could he? Maybe that was the reason he and Spoiler had not seen Robin and Wondergirl trailing behind Harm. Maybe, Robin had, had feelings for Wondergirl? Impossible, the Kid reiterated, can't be, no chance, no how. The Kid alone had eyes for Wondergirl, and Robin, well, Robin was just alone, in Superboy's made up mind. From love Superboy's emotions transitioned to hate as his mind returned to Harm.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter IX

Chapter IX

The stench of blood, sweat, and soil fouled the evening air. There too was another element in the atmosphere, just as potent as the rest. It had no image, though all present could see it. It had no odor, yet they could just as easily smell it.

Hate, in its rancid majesty, had closed in, not unlike a fog, around them, blinding their every action.

Arriving on scene, Impulse stomached the jarring visual of Wondergirl and Secret lying unconscious as Robin clawed to his feet. After successfully redirecting the current of the fog, Impulse and XS decided to reconvene with the rest of the group, with Bart checking on team one and XS team two.

To his ardent displeasure, Impulse raced towards the girls' prone bodies and viewed just how wounded they were. "Whoa, what the episode of Friends happened here?"

In vengeful reverie, Robin commanded Bart, "Impulse, get the hurt back to the infirmary in the Justice Cave!"

"…But what about Harm?"

"NOW!" boomed Robin, unsettling Impulse as well as himself to a degree. He then shifted his battered, but no less acute head in Harm's direction, and added gravely, "I'll handle Harm."

"You sure, cuz by the look of things, you…" and as Impulse continued to speak, he noticed Robin did not, and maybe could not, hear him. Instead, the insistent drubbing of settling the score with Harm dwarfed any and every other sound. At that moment, Bart Allen yielded, seeing full well that Robin was as dangerous a man as he had ever encountered.

"…Yeah, sure Rob, whatever you say." A bit alarmed by his normally easy going friend's radical change in disposition, Impulse backed away from him and tended to the girls. Under his breath, Impulse murmured, "What is this, yell at Impulse day? …At least I'm not the one who got handled by a super-villain who probably still lives with his parents."

Meanwhile, halting her mesmerizing speed, Jenni Ognatz approached Superboy and the fallen body of Spoiler. Puzzled by what had happened and eager to help her friends, Jenni asked Superboy, "Are you two alright?!"

In no mood for her kindness, Superboy exploded from off is knees into the air, bent on catching up to Harm. "Superboy, wait!" Despite her words of warning, the Kid had no interest in anything other than Harm's face splattered against his knuckles. Dismissing her, he shouted, "Get her back to the infirmary and check on the others! Harm is mine!"

"Wait!" XS screamed a second time, but her plea was soon lost in the dust of Superboy's unalterable course. As he darted further into the forest, Jenni had no recourse other than begrudgingly do as he had said. He, much the same as Robin, had left no other option.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter X

Chapter X

Superboy, entering the final stretch of the forest first, toured through the consuming fog as blind as he was filled with hate. The shifted current of the fog had amassed an opaque cloak over the southern region of the forest that prevented all but stray shadows to be seen. Regardless, his eyes did see, and it was red. As he penetrated deeper and deeper in flight, the path became alien to him, every twist and turn weaved him further and further from what he originally perceived as his destination. The only familiarity accompanying him was roiling anger.

Soon after, Robin stormed through the center of the forest heading towards the southern region in hot pursuit of Harm. In his sprinting stride, he darted passed XS as she tended to Spoiler, but to him, they were no more substantive than the abounding leaves and trees. For a moment, the worried cry from XS as she felt Robin whoosh by her, "Robin!?" temporarily pulled his attention back to what was truly important, that of his ailing friends. It was not his intention to ignore them, but it was his action nonetheless. His mind, his pacing heart was geared towards one end alone, and that was Harm. Without turning back, Robin trudged into the blanketing fog, unable to see clearly that which was in front, and behind him.

Concomitantly, Superboy's heated search grew no less passionate, but with the passage of each corner, he could feel Harm's trail grow thinner and thinner. That is until out the corner of his eye, Superboy spotted a faint, but apparent silhouette moving in the fog. Immediately, Superboy's focus turned to the silhouette, and as he glimpsed more, he realized the sinewy shadow was drawing closer to him.

The time had come, Superboy told himself. He would make Harm pay for hurting Spoiler and making a fool out of him. Clenching his fists, he prepared to greet the charging shadow with the full brunt of his contempt.

As Robin searched through the dense fog, rage and relief swept over him as he too spotted a silhouette in the distance. It was Harm, he told himself, XS and Impulse had succeeded in realigning the fog, and Harm had unavoidably become disoriented by it. Now, as Robin watched the silhouette wander the fog, he could see his moment to strike. Based upon the mannerisms and movements of the silhouette, Robin judged Harm must have his back turned to him, and the element of surprise would be Robin's greatest ally in the coming battle.

Empowered by his anger, Robin viciously rushed towards the shadow in the fog. As the silhouette drew nearer, Superboy, poised to deliver an uppercut, was stunned as the lissome shadow cut under his fist like a sleek javelin and viciously speared him to the ground. Gaining the upper hand, Robin remained mounted on top of the downed silhouette and landed two damaging punches in succession.

As each punch sunk into the face of the shadow, a part of Robin could instantly sense that something was wrong. He had fought Harm before, he knew Harm. Though he could not see, he knew very well that this, perhaps, was not what he had assumed it to be. Under the weight of his fists, his Gemini adjudicators, his indecision quickly suffocated. He could not allow the confusion of the fog to fluster him. This was Harm, this was his opponent. Nothing else mattered.

He had taken him by surprise. He had underestimated Harm once again. No more he conceded. As he lay on the ground with the shadow preparing to throw a third punch, Superboy deftly caught its fist in mid swing. Firmly in his grasp, the Kid employed all his tactile telekinetic force to wrench the hand of the shadow, almost ripping the arm right from its socket.

He could feel that had hurt the shadow, and capitalizing on its anguish, he shrewdly kneed the silhouette in the stomach and flipped it from on top of him. The two returned to their feet, and with heaving breaths they both stood face to face. With overzealous force, Superboy wildly swung a left followed by a right punch. Timing each overly aggressive punch of the silhouette, Robin ducked both and, noticing it left itself open after each swing, countered with a brutal head-butt that smashed deep into its nose.

Upon impact, Robin immediately knew he had spilt its blood as he felt a near river of steaming liquid gush onto him. Due to the stinging thunder of the blow, a weary Superboy staggered two steps back, but as he did so, he cunningly grappled onto the shadow. Allocating the momentum of his own fall, Superboy, with the shadow still in his throws, chucked the darkened silhouette over his shoulder.

As his prone back smacked against the ground, Robin mentally berated himself for being so careless after the head-butt. Adrenaline convalescing through his aching veins, Robin deftly sprung to his feet from the ground and hurtled towards his foe, intending on connecting a quick retaliatory jump kick. On guard, Superboy watched as the shadow attempted to jump kick him, to which he alertly avoided by leaping into the air.

Landing behind him, the shadow ruthlessly applied a head vice to Robin. Trapped in his opponent's iron grip, Robin could slowly feel every last molecule of air leave his body as his lungs fought to expand. The passage of every excruciating second heightened Robin's anxiety as he struggled to break free in a sweat laced panic. With his fading breath, Robin tried to kick and squirm, but to no success. His eyes, which burned with such fire, dimmed as its stoked flames were mercilessly smothered. What little he could see began to disappear. The painful hold had taken a sickening toll on Robin as beneath the fog, his face degenerated to a cold blue hue as any flow of blood had been denied to his skull.

Deathly weakened, Robin, in final desperation gathered as much leverage as he possibly could and managed to swing his back in an arching motion. The sudden maneuver by the silhouette caused Superboy to sever his grip and be heaved across the forest into a tree. His body roughly tattered against the bark of the tree as both his mind and spine jarred on impact.

As his opponent went sailing into the tree, Robin's freed hands tangled with what felt like, a jacket, "…A leather jacket?!" he bemusedly pondered. It was there, in the fog, that Robin arrived at the troubling revelation that Harm had triumphed once again.

Grievously, Robin called out, his wheezing voice wracked with guilt and exhaustion, "Superboy?!" Although semiconscious from the mammoth collision with the tree, the all too sobering sound of his opponent's, his friend's voice resonated in the Kid's mind as he concluded what had truly transpired, and responded, "Robin?!"

Battered and bruised, the two bewildered warriors limped to their feet. Both young men who had fought so unrestrainedly now faced the increasingly daunting task of finding the strength to apologize. The friends they were, they immediately knew just how terribly sorry each was.

"Look Rob, I'm…"

Robin abruptly interrupted his friend's apology, not needing words to describe that which he already knew. Focused instead on the greater issue at hand, Robin stated, "Harm knew. And somewhere, he is laughing."

Harm had escaped, long since gone. Still, tremendous harm had been done, the scars of which yet to surface.

Chapter X

Superboy, entering the final stretch of the forest first, toured through the consuming fog as blind as he was filled with hate. The shifted current of the fog had amassed an opaque cloak over the southern region of the forest that prevented all but stray shadows to be seen. Regardless, his eyes did see, and it was red. As he penetrated deeper and deeper in flight, the path became alien to him, every twist and turn weaved him further and further from what he originally perceived as his destination. The only familiarity accompanying him was roiling anger.

Soon after, Robin stormed through the center of the forest heading towards the southern region in hot pursuit of Harm. In his sprinting stride, he darted passed XS as she tended to Spoiler, but to him, they were no more substantive than the abounding leaves and trees. For a moment, the worried cry from XS as she felt Robin whoosh by her, "Robin!?" temporarily pulled his attention back to what was truly important, that of his ailing friends. It was not his intention to ignore them, but it was his action nonetheless. His mind, his pacing heart was geared towards one end alone, and that was Harm. Without turning back, Robin trudged into the blanketing fog, unable to see clearly that which was in front, and behind him.

Concomitantly, Superboy's heated search grew no less passionate, but with the passage of each corner, he could feel Harm's trail grow thinner and thinner. That is until out the corner of his eye, Superboy spotted a faint, but apparent silhouette moving in the fog. Immediately, Superboy's focus turned to the silhouette, and as he glimpsed more, he realized the sinewy shadow was drawing closer to him.

The time had come, Superboy told himself. He would make Harm pay for hurting Spoiler and making a fool out of him. Clenching his fists, he prepared to greet the charging shadow with the full brunt of his contempt.

As Robin searched through the dense fog, rage and relief swept over him as he too spotted a silhouette in the distance. It was Harm, he told himself, XS and Impulse had succeeded in realigning the fog, and Harm had unavoidably become disoriented by it. Now, as Robin watched the silhouette wander the fog, he could see his moment to strike. Based upon the mannerisms and movements of the silhouette, Robin judged Harm must have his back turned to him, and the element of surprise would be Robin's greatest ally in the coming battle.

Empowered by his anger, Robin viciously rushed towards the shadow in the fog. As the silhouette drew nearer, Superboy, poised to deliver an uppercut, was stunned as the lissome shadow cut under his fist like a sleek javelin and viciously speared him to the ground. Gaining the upper hand, Robin remained mounted on top of the downed silhouette and landed two damaging punches in succession.

As each punch sunk into the face of the shadow, a part of Robin could instantly sense that something was wrong. He had fought Harm before, he knew Harm. Though he could not see, he knew very well that this, perhaps, was not what he had assumed it to be. Under the weight of his fists, his Gemini adjudicators, his indecision quickly suffocated. He could not allow the confusion of the fog to fluster him. This was Harm, this was his opponent. Nothing else mattered.

He had taken him by surprise. He had underestimated Harm once again. No more he conceded. As he lay on the ground with the shadow preparing to throw a third punch, Superboy deftly caught its fist in mid swing. Firmly in his grasp, the Kid employed all his tactile telekinetic force to wrench the hand of the shadow, almost ripping the arm right from its socket.

He could feel that had hurt the shadow, and capitalizing on its anguish, he shrewdly kneed the silhouette in the stomach and flipped it from on top of him. The two returned to their feet, and with heaving breaths they both stood face to face. With overzealous force, Superboy wildly swung a left followed by a right punch. Timing each overly aggressive punch of the silhouette, Robin ducked both and, noticing it left itself open after each swing, countered with a brutal head-butt that smashed deep into its nose.

Upon impact, Robin immediately knew he had spilt its blood as he felt a near river of steaming liquid gush onto him. Due to the stinging thunder of the blow, a weary Superboy staggered two steps back, but as he did so, he cunningly grappled onto the shadow. Allocating the momentum of his own fall, Superboy, with the shadow still in his throws, chucked the darkened silhouette over his shoulder.

As his prone back smacked against the ground, Robin mentally berated himself for being so careless after the head-butt. Adrenaline convalescing through his aching veins, Robin deftly sprung to his feet from the ground and hurtled towards his foe, intending on connecting a quick retaliatory jump kick. On guard, Superboy watched as the shadow attempted to jump kick him, to which he alertly avoided by leaping into the air.

Landing behind him, the shadow ruthlessly applied a head vice to Robin. Trapped in his opponent's iron grip, Robin could slowly feel every last molecule of air leave his body as his lungs fought to expand. The passage of every excruciating second heightened Robin's anxiety as he struggled to break free in a sweat laced panic. With his fading breath, Robin tried to kick and squirm, but to no success. His eyes, which burned with such fire, dimmed as its stoked flames were mercilessly smothered. What little he could see began to disappear. The painful hold had taken a sickening toll on Robin as beneath the fog, his face degenerated to a cold blue hue as any flow of blood had been denied to his skull.

Deathly weakened, Robin, in final desperation gathered as much leverage as he possibly could and managed to swing his back in an arching motion. The sudden maneuver by the silhouette caused Superboy to sever his grip and be heaved across the forest into a tree. His body roughly tattered against the bark of the tree as both his mind and spine jarred on impact.

As his opponent went sailing into the tree, Robin's freed hands tangled with what felt like, a jacket, "…A leather jacket?!" he bemusedly pondered. It was there, in the fog, that Robin arrived at the troubling revelation that Harm had triumphed once again.

Grievously, Robin called out, his wheezing voice wracked with guilt and exhaustion, "Superboy?!" Although semiconscious from the mammoth collision with the tree, the all too sobering sound of his opponent's, his friend's voice resonated in the Kid's mind as he concluded what had truly transpired, and responded, "Robin?!"

Battered and bruised, the two bewildered warriors limped to their feet. Both young men who had fought so unrestrainedly now faced the increasingly daunting task of finding the strength to apologize. The friends they were, they immediately knew just how terribly sorry each was.

"Look Rob, I'm…"

Robin abruptly interrupted his friend's apology, not needing words to describe that which he already knew. Focused instead on the greater issue at hand, Robin stated, "Harm knew. And somewhere, he is laughing."

Harm had escaped, long since gone. Still, tremendous harm had been done, the scars of which yet to surface.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter XI

Chapter XI

Pride disgraced the layered depths of her happiness. It was too weak a word, too confining a space to faithfully describe how she felt. She had earned this, all of it. By right, she reveled in her accomplishments.

Like she had done so many times before, Cissie returned home on a visit from boarding school. In many ways, things had forever changed. In her gleeful stride through the door she wore a smile that shimmered with confidence. It was a confidence that for her had long been absent. Along with her head held high, in her hand, she also held a first place certificate from her archery club.

Admittedly so, she had been apprehensive of boarding school, but as time wore on, she found herself genuinely falling in love with it. The unfamiliar had become the definitive aspect of her life. There she had blossomed into a person, her own woman. No longer was she a mere appendage of any costume or forlorn dream of another. She had friends, accomplishments.

She had a real, normal life. She had good days and bad days, but she valued each one the same. They meant something, especially to one such as herself who had never known the simple pleasures of life. She thirst her entire life for but a glimpse and now she saw how life was meant to be seen, not from behind a mask, but with eyes wide open. Normalcy, the humble state of living was so extraordinary that it surpassed anything she had ever known or wished for in life.

Cissie cheerfully called out, "Hi mom! I'm home! Mom?" Curious as to where her ever eccentric mother was, the dull, but alluring glow of the television highlighted her mother's presence in the den. Cissie peered in and saw her mother seated in her chair watching the news.

Eager to share her achievements with her mother, Cissie began, "Hi mom! There you are; I'm home! Look at my award, I got first place in my school's archery competition! I was so happy when I won, aren't you proud?"

Her mother did not turn around as she spoke. Readjusting her glasses, her mother prepared to speak, "Proud?" The air in the room tightened as she spoke, "I am supposed to be proud that my daughter, with her limitless potential, is squandering her talents with archery club? Have you seen the news, or are you too giggly at school to even care about things that are really important."

Like the kiss of a rusted blade, the sharp emphasis on the word "really," tore into Arrowette. Discouraged, Arrowette quietly responded, "…Yeah, um, a bank and museum were robbed."

"That's right," her mother quickly followed, and sternly continued, "How can you just stand there so, so uncaring knowing that? There are people lying in the hospital, teetering between life and death. There are actually brave people who have willingly risked their lives to stop these crimes and protect the innocent, and none of them have your spit's worth of power. You are blessed with gifts that can change the world. But no, you would rather selfishly show off to your snobbish friends than use your powers to help others."

Both women were on the verge of tears. Cissie neared tears for the crushing gravity of her mother's speech, and her mother likewise out of sheer passion. Inhaling, she left her daughter with, "Cissie, you are a disgrace, such a damn disgrace. Go. Do whatever the hell you want. I don't care."

Between words she exhaled deeply as if severing herself from her kin, and said, "It's your life. You don't have to do the right thing."

Enveloped in the dull radiance of the television light Cissie learned, painful as it was that no arrow, or archer for that matter, could pierce a heart as deeply as did her own mother's words.


End file.
